


Kairos

by BlankIndexCards



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Humor, M/M, Post-Star Trek: Into Darkness, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-10 08:23:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2017875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlankIndexCards/pseuds/BlankIndexCards
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was three months after Jim had woken up from his coma. A lot had happened to everyone in this time. Spock terminated his relationship with Uhura. Kirk was having terrifying nightmares. Bones was threatening to hypo them both if they stayed up past three playing chess again. They were all being bombarded and harassed by the press and Starfleet. It was this that drove Spock to suggest something crazy. Something so unorthodox that it left both McCoy and Kirk wide-eyed with jaws on the floor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Asterismos

"What do you mean _go to New Vulcan?!_ " Kirk exclaimed, nearly jumping out of his seat on the hospital bed. He certainly wasn't upset but this was a bit out of the blue, especially for Spock. In fact, it sounded like one of his crazy, spur-of-the-moment ideas.

"I believe this to be an amenable solution to most of our current dilemmas. We all desire to be left in peace and my suggestion provides this. The existence of paparazzi, to which they are commonly referred, is nearly nonexistent on New Vulcan. Starfleet would also be less inclined to disturb your rest, since you would no longer be in close proximity to Headquarters," Spock studied their confused faces, "Do you not concur?"     

"Concur?!" Bones said, seeming almost dazed, "You spring something like that on us and just expect us to agree that it's an 'amenable solution?' And we'll just hop on a shuttle with you without an argument?" McCoy couldn't fathom what had brought this idea on.

"Now, hold it, Bones. I know it seems far fetched but I think Spock's really onto something," Jim said quickly growing excited, a curious gleam in his eyes, the one he always had when plotting something mischievous. He had a penchant for troublesome behavior.

McCoy could practically see the gears in his brain working and groaned, "Oh, no, you don't! You are forbidden from participating in any tomfool ideas with Spock until I declare you medically fit." 

"You could always accompany us on this tomfool idea to make sure I don't hurt myself," Jim said, trying to appear charming. Hospital gowns never did much for him, especially if the butt hadn't been cut out. Boy, were those some  _interesting_  stories. "I mean, Spock did say the invitation is open to you too."

Spock nodded at the Captain and McCoy, "Doctor, as you presumably know, New Vulcan has highly advanced medical facilities and, based on the data recorded in previous weeks, any regression in Captain Kirk's condition would be highly unlikely. However, if such an incident were to occur it would be beneficial to have your advanced medical knowledge as the Captain is still not fully recovered." 

"You see, that's exactly why we shouldn't go! What with the gravity and the heat, the whole thing will only upset his internal functions. Not to mention, New Vulcan isn't exactly the ideal human vacation hotspot," McCoy huffed in irritation, "I don't want to spend the next month in the desert, needing a tri-ox compound every time I want to go for a run."

"Bones, the only time you run is when we're being chased by natives," Jim interjected teasingly, "The rest of the time, it's only a light jog."

"You're missing the point, Jim!" the doctor groaned. He was determined not to be dragged into doing this. For once, he was going to win and make Jim do the sensible thing..

"And the point is?" Jim leaned his head on the heel of his hand, gesturing patronizingly for Bones to continue. He appeared bored but there was a twinkle in his eyes that said differently. 

"The point is you're not going and that's final!" McCoy hated to argue with the Captain whenever he had it set in his mind to do something because Jim always won out, especially if Spock was there to back him up. That's why they were a political death machine when it came to negotiations and treaties. Between Jim's natural charm and Spock's hard logic, they were practically impossible to stop. McCoy could already tell he was fighting on the losing side.

* * *

 Two hours later, Bones was angrily jamming underwear in his suitcase. "Idiotic, double-teaming, reckless dumbasses," he grumbled as his apartment door slid open and Jim walked in. The Captain had finally changed out of his hospital gown and put on some jeans. Denim had never felt so good. The late morning light was streaming in from the windows, illuminating Jim's face in a way that the bright lights of the Enterprise's bridge just couldn't do. He looked healthy and excited, though a little tired.

"What was that, Bones?" Kirk asked, grinning as he leaned against the door frame. It instantly began to screech at him and he scrambled away from it. Ah, the wonders of modern technology. 

"That's what you get for trying to be smug," McCoy grinned, zipping up the suitcase, "Where's Spock got up to?"

"He's waiting downstairs with the taxi," Jim answered, gesturing vaguely in that direction. 

"You know, you could still tell him you don't wanna go," McCoy began half-heartedly, pulling the suitcase off the bed.

Jim sighed in exasperation, "Bones, I-"

"Are you sure you don't see any problem with this convoluted scheme?" McCoy cut him off, "Like, oh, I don't know, the fact that we only decided to go two hours ago and have had absolutely no time to plan for the trip? Or maybe that you _died_ a few weeks ago?!"

"Bones, it's going to be fine!  We don't need a plan for a little fun in the sun. I'll go stir-crazy if you keep me locked up any longer. It'll be alright," Jim said, placing a firm hand on his friend's shoulder and looking at him with reassuring eyes, "Trust me. If it's Spock's idea, it'll be okay."

McCoy sighed, looking older than he was, the tired wrinkles around his eyes showing more than ever. He knew Jim was almost back to normal but the aftermath of Khan still weighed heavily on all of them. Perhaps he was mother-henning a bit too much. "Just promise me that you won't overdo it, Jim. You know, get some real rest. Slow down a little, just this once."

"I promise, Bones," Kirk said, face splitting into a wide grin, "Now, c'mon! Spock won't wait all day." McCoy didn't even try to argue with him but, he knew full well that the Vulcan would have stood there for a month if Jim asked him to.

* * *

 The shuttle ride went fairly quickly for Jim, considering he slept most of the way through it. He only woke up once to Spock and Bones arguing on either side of him.  He mumbled something along the lines of "Shut up. That's an order." and promptly went back to sleep. What he didn't realize was that the comfortable spot where he snuggled back into was the shoulder of his First Officer, who minded less than most would assume.

Spock had learned early on that, while Kirk understood the concept of personal space and tried very hard to respect it, he was simply a very tactile being. He gained the same emotional security from a simple pat on the back or a hug that most could find in words of reassurance. Most of the ship's crew had respectfully given Spock a wide berth and he was secretly grateful for this. He had no wish to be privy to the thoughts and emotions of other beings. However, like always, Kirk was the exception and popped in and out of his personal space frequently. Touches that were casual and friendly to him, like an arm slung around Spock's shoulders after they returned to the bridge from a successful mission, were normally abhorrent to a Vulcan due to the extreme intimacy but once again, Spock found himself simply not caring. He wondered for a time if he had slowly adjusted to humanity's rampant emotional need for physical contact. This was not the case, he discovered, when Ensign Sycolla hugged him in a fit of joy after her experiment had successfully proved her initial hypothesis. He had felt an immediate desire to remove himself from the situation and spent several hours in meditation to cleanse himself of the overwhelming amount of foreign thoughts and emotions that had been thrust upon him.

There were few people whom he allowed to come in physical contact with him on a regular basis. Among these individuals was Nyota. Nyota had always been steady and constant, a pillar of strength to Spock. She was someone he considered to be similar to a sibling; this had been one of the reasons culminating in the mutual agreement to end their romantic relationship.   Whenever initiating a touch, Nyota would reach slowly, always giving him an easy way out. She never forced him to express affection or pushed her emotions upon him. Nyota never demanded more than Spock could give but, in the end, they both agreed that it was an unsatisfactory match and neither could meet the other's needs in that way. They did indeed love one another but it was a different kind, more like that of a familial bond than a romantic one. 

Another person was Leonard McCoy. This was partially due to the fact he was a doctor and would occasionally perform Spock's physicals. However, Doctor M'Benga was his primary physician so this wasn't a frequent occurrence. As a general rule, Leonard didn't touch him often but he was usually in Spock's personal space. An accusing finger pointed at him or a pair of tired eyes glaring was an everyday event. During particularly heated arguments, McCoy would stand mere inches from him and lean forward on his toes so that he was on eye level with Spock. On some occasions, specifically when no one else was looking, he would show affection for the Vulcan. It was mostly a quick pat on the back here and there, accompanied with the fond undertone of 'hobgoblin.' Spock had long since stopped taking this as an offense as the doctor often insulted those he cared for. It was illogical but a fact, nonetheless.

Once, after a mission had gone terribly wrong, Spock had woken up late at night in Sickbay. The room was dark and relatively cold. There were no other patients to be seen. However, he was not the only person in the room. Jim snored quietly at the foot of his bed, his body twisted uncomfortably to accommodate the chair he sat in. The occasional mumble or twitch came from him. His eyebrows were knitted together closely in a frown and his fists clutched at Spock's bedsheets, a PADD beside his hands. Spock would often find his Captain in a similar position whenever his close friends were injured, though all the previous times he had been awake. He never stayed very late, mostly because Spock would remind him he had Bridge duty in the morning. The sound of depressurization cut through the quiet, signaling the opening of a door. McCoy walked into the room looking haggard. He spied Jim and sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. He strode over to the sleeping form, lifted him out of the chair by the armpits and dragged him over to one of the beds next to Spock's. 

"C'mon, kid. Work with me here," he muttered as he hoisted Jim up and rolled him over on his side, careful to avoid the ribs he had bruised during the mission. Jim pulled at his shirt with a small whine, trying to drag his friend into bed with him. Bones gently removed his hands and tucked the Captain in, pressing a short kiss to his forehead. Spock felt as though he was intruding upon a private moment and quickly looked away, feeling ashamed. As McCoy turned to leave, he immediately spotted the now awake Vulcan. He stared blankly at Spock for a moment, looking a bit dazed, then held up a single finger as the human sign to wait. He quietly rushed out of the room and returned minutes later, carrying two extra blankets. He always had a particular sensitivity to people and could usually interpret what they needed before they asked. This was part of what made him such an excellent physician. Bones tucked Spock in at top speed, the same way he had done with Jim, easily avoiding all sustained injuries. When he was finished, he stood haltingly and stared at Spock with an odd look. He leaned slightly forward, taking in a breath as if he were preparing to speak, paused for a beat, and then pressed a gentle kiss to Spock's forehead in the same manner as he had with Jim. McCoy left promptly after, the smell of alcohol and a cologne that only contained hypoallergenic ingredients lingering in the air. Spock knew which brand of cologne the doctor used, down to the chemical formula, because Leonard had painstakingly informed him of what Jim could and couldn't come in contact with. Fortunately, the incense Spock used during meditation passed the doctor's inspection. Neither of them ever spoke of it, to each other or to Jim, but did privately acknowledge that, for all the bickering and disagreements, they were extremely close friends.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first time I've written anything for a while. Any feedback you have is greatly appreciated.


	2. Peripeteia

"I believe that it would be prudent to inform you both of the housing arrangements," Spock said as they neared their destination. They were roughly thirty Standard minutes away. "As you both know, my father will be absent on a diplomatic mission for the duration of our stay and an early return is unforeseen. Even so, there are only two bedrooms in the house, which may result in shared quarters. I wish to ascertain which arrangement would be most comfortable."

"Bones can't sleep in the same bed as other people," Jim put in, his voice groggy. He had woken up fifteen minutes earlier and was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He was craving his morning coffee. Bones hadn't let him have much while he was in the hospital and withdrawals were beginning to set in.

"He's right, you know. Haven't been able to since I was with Jocelyn. Don't really know why either. I feel like it's some kind of psychological damage the divorce gave me but I'm not inclined to get it checked out," McCoy chuckled, "I remember this one time at the Academy, Jim was drunk off his ass and dragged me into bed with him. He's a real cuddler so I spent the whole night lying awake in his death grip. Couldn't breathe, couldn't escape, couldn't do anything except lay there like a corpse. Mind you now, he used to be almost impossible to wake up so that strategy got me nowhere. It cost me all my morning classes because he didn't get up till noon the next day."

"I didn't have any classes scheduled that day! It was my right to sleep in," Jim chuckled as Bones glared at him, "Anyways, I used to sleep like a log, especially at the Academy.  Being in space has conditioned me out of it though. Never know when there'll be a red-alert."

"Gentlemen, as fascinating as Human sleeping habits are, I believe we are beginning to drift off topic," Spock interjected dryly, "We still must decide who will be rooming together."

"Don't think we have much of a choice," Jim yawned as he stretched, "You and I share a bed and Bones gets the other one. Is that okay with you two?" He looked questioningly at them, doing a poor imitation of the Vulcan's signature eyebrow raise.

"It is agreeable," Spock replied, a slight raise in the corners of his mouth.

* * *

After exiting the shuttle, the trio wormed their way through the busy port, heavy suitcases in tow. Most of the people they passed were either Vulcans or in Starfleet. While the Vulcan colony was flourishing in their rebuilding efforts, they still needed a great deal of assistance from Federation. At first, the working relationship between the Starfleet crews and the Vulcans had been a bit rocky, due in part to some underlying xenophobic tendencies and cultural differences. That had long since been smoothed over, with no small amount of yelling from the Chief Engineer working on the project. Spock saw this as a hopeful sign that Vulcan was beginning to move forward and no other hybrid children would have to experience the same childhood he did. He had shared these thoughts with Jim while he was recovering in the hospital. When he inquired as to the nature of Spock's treatment as a child, he had told Jim that he preferred not to discuss it at the time. Despite all the progress he had made in the past years, he was still coming to terms with the irregular balance of Human and Vulcan that had to exist within him. The Captain had sighed in acquiescence, but added, "When you do feel like talking about it, I want you to know I'll be here for you, no matter what."

Spock had felt something swell in his chest, almost overwhelmed with the force of it. He had murmured a quite statement of gratitude in return and Jim just smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as though his face couldn't withstand the amount of joy he was feeling. "I thought that any kind of thanks were illogical," he chuckled, his hand hovering over his rook.

"They are," Spock said, feeling the same odd surge in his chest. It was that night, after he left for his apartment, that Spock began to examine his relationship with the Captain.

It had began as a small itch in the back of his mind, the kind you can ignore in the hope that it goes away. Pushed into his subconscious, the idea, the small hope had taken root and grown until it became a dense jungle, spilling over the wall Spock had built around it. In the privacy of his apartment, he had torn down the barrier brick by brick. Humans often spoke in their literature of a moment when one suddenly realized the depth of their love toward another. When Spock pulled away the last remnants of the wall, everything rushed over him. It was like the thick sheets of sand that hurled through the air in the summer sand storms of Vulcan and it's sting was just as harsh as airborne grains of sand. He  _knew_ and his entire being ached with it. Forced out of his meditative state, he found himself lying on the floor, panting with exertion. He lit a second set of meditation candles,  hoping the familiar scent would help clear his head.

The original pain soon dulled to a faint ache in his temples but the emptiness he felt wouldn't decrease for hours. He knew both were symptoms of an unfulfilled bond. It was rare for them to be so severe but, Spock had starved the bond of everything it needed to grow. Now that he knew, now that all the little clues added up, Spock was overwhelmed with the force of his own love for Jim. Unfortunately, life was rarely ever so simple.

First and foremost was Uhura. The prospect of the conversation to come wasn't a pleasant idea, even for Humans who wore their feelings on their sleeves. He understood that he must be gentle in this endeavor but nevertheless firm so that his intentions were not misconstrued. The mere thought of the task ahead was daunting.

Spock invited her for lunch at a small café, a favorite of theirs during their days at the Academy. There was a particular table they always sat at. It was  in direct line with the hot San Francisco sun but half of it was overshadowed by the canopy in front of the café. The staff had offered to move the table the first few times but Spock always declined. The slow, languid warmth of the afternoon sun reminded him of home. Nyota had a particular enjoyment for the heat as well but always had to squint when not in the shade. Despite the illogic of it, Spock knew he would miss the crinkle in her nose whenever she sat too close to the sun. However, their relationship had been about compromise and, though all relationships have that as a central theme, it wasn’t satisfying for either of them.

That lunch had been no different than any other, quiet and cordial. There had been no furious storming out, no mournful weeping. Spock had been led to believe these things to be customary for the receiver of the news. This had made him somewhat cautious to complete the action in view of the public eye. Selfish as it was, Spock had no desire to try and manage the fallout. He was ill equipped to handle his own emotions, much less Nyota's, and he feared it would only serve to further damage their relationship. But he had once again underestimated the grace and wisdom that Nyota possessed. She had sensed the tension from  the moment they met at the cafe. After they received their meals, she decided to test her hypothesis on why Spock was being even more reserved than usual. He tended to prefer blunt statements and in this case, she was more than willing to accommodate him.

“Its Jim, isn’t it? You love him, right?” she said, watching him with a careful gaze as Spock’s eyes widened and then drifted to the floor.

"I..feel for him, Nyota," Spock had stared at his barely touched plate, quiet shame creeping through him. He felt her hand touch his arm, calm understanding projecting from her, and his eyes flicked up to meet her strong gaze.

"I know how long it's taken you to be able to say that. To admit to feeling anything at all," Uhura said, her hands rubbing over her face as if to push the frustration away. Spock began to notice how tired she looked, the dark crescents under her eyes, the tightness in her face. It was often too easy to forget that he wasn't the only one who had been affected by the recent tragedy.  

"Nyota, I am...sorry," Spock said, his voice almost inaudible. He felt ashamed, both by his treatment of Uhura over the past months and with his inability to cope with his emotions concerning the Captain. Spock's mouth tightened into a thin, apologetic line.

"It's okay, Spock." Nyota fiddled with her fork, turning it over on the table and rolling her thoughts around in a similar manner. "I understand that he is something I could never be for you. Just like there are things you can never be for me and that's okay. That's perfectly okay." Her smile had been warm and genuine and Spock knew that their relationship would be fine, that they would still be close friends.

All of this was flitting through Spock's mind as they bustled past other travelers. He spared a glance at Jim, wondering how much of what Nyota said rang true. She was perceptive beyond compare and usually knew what a person's needs were before they even knew that there was an issue, especially when it came to Spock.

They boarded a public transport, not unlike the city buses on Earth. It wasn't particularly crowded, but there were a few noteworthy characters. The almost constipated look of a Vulcan with a sleeping Andorian sprawled across his lap, his antenna twitching every now and then, being one. There were a few Vulcans chatting in low tones, but, other than the occasional snore from the Andorian, there was only the soft hum of machinery to fill the silence.

"Spock, why isn’t anyone talking?" Jim whispered, leaning over to Spock's ear, "It's kind of creepy." Bones seemed completely unaware of their conversation, still eyeing the Andorian like he might erupt into spontaneous flames at any given moment.

"Vulcan hearing allows us a greater sensitivity to noise. Not only are loud commotions an uncomfortable experience but, it is significantly easier to overhear details of conversations that the participating individuals believed to be private." Jim gave a noncommittal grunt of understanding before leaning back towards Bones. The ride continued on in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I wasn't going to finish this, but it was recently brought to my attention that some people are still interested in this story. I'll update whenever possible and thank you in advance for your patience. Thanks for reading!


	3. Saudade

One thing Jim hadn't anticipated was how dusty New Vulcan would be. The moment he stepped off the transport, a wave of dry heat and sandy wind brushed past him, leaving him rubbing his eyes and coughing. Bones, exiting moments later, began raving about how coming to New Vulcan was a terrible idea and that it was going to kill Jim. This continued until the transport drove away and the dust kicked up in its wake flew straight into McCoy's open mouth, sending him into a coughing fit of his own. Spock was content to observe, the slight curving twitch of his lip indicating his amusement. After Bones had been reduced to a watery-eyed, wheezing mess, they started the short trek to Sarek's house.

The rather imposing building sat on top of a small craggy hill, like many in the surrounding area. It was small compared to traditional Vulcan architecture, even with the second story, but the wrap-around porch gave it an air certainly fit for an Ambassador. There were odd arches where Jim wouldn't have expected them, particularly on the porch, that commanded an older, ornate feel. Jim was sure they served some logical purpose, but they made the house feel as though it was built six centuries ago instead of six months. Other houses, each on their own small mound, were within yelling distance but still maintained a fair bit of privacy, something Vulcans placed a great deal of value on. It had taken a full month and a half before Spock even entertained the idea that their chess games might take place in their quarters instead of the rec room.

When they finally reached the top of the hill, Bones and Jim were breathing hard and leaning heavily on their suitcases. Even though New Vulcan's atmosphere had more oxygen than Vulcan That Was, it still wasn't enough for the standard human lung to work as well as it did on Earth. Spock ushered them inside, where they were met with the blessed gift of environmental controls. While it wasn’t the comfortable temperature of the Enterprise, it was substantially less sweltering than the great outdoors.

They entered into a strange combination between a living room and kitchen, presenting more unexpected angles and curves and a bizarre blend between old and new. The inside of the house being much like the outside, Jim wasn’t surprised by the odd blend of architecture. Elements from several cultures cropped up throughout the room, most notably the peculiar version of French doors set in the stone walls that led out onto the veranda. They were almost seven feet in height and their curved sides made a near perfect semi-circle. Now that they were inside, the bright light pouring in from multiple windows was much gentler and gave the room a comfortable, natural air. It was completely silent, save for the hum of the environmental controls, until a loud grumble interrupted the momentary peace. Spock turned, raising an eyebrow in amusement, “I believe the doctor is signalling that it is time for lunch.”

* * *

The temperature had dropped a small amount from what it was when they had arrived and a gentle breeze pushed wisps of clouds through the dim and dusky sky. Spock stood outside on the veranda, observing the small garden. Small species of flowering cacti were in bloom and a few spindly flowers pushed out of the sandy earth. The atmosphere was almost haunting in the pale light of the moon, as it cast gray shadows across the desert and Spock’s conflicted face. "Vulcan didn't have a moon, did it?" Kirk said behind him in a soft voice, seeming almost to appear out of the darkness. Spock had believed he and McCoy were upstairs unpacking.

"No, but T’Khut, classified as Delta Vega by the Federation, was often visible in the night sky of the western hemisphere. During certain points in its orbit, it would appear in the sky to be over four times the size of Earth's moon," Spock replied, hesitating for a moment before continuing, "Every fourteen years, for the span of one Vulcan month, the two planets would come so close that T’Khut would cover half of the sky and the night would be roughly as bright as the day. That time period was commonly referred to as the El’ru’esta. I only saw it once in my life...” Spock trailed off, still seeming distracted by some unknown affliction. Jim reached out to brush his fingertips against Spock’s, trying to show some kind of solidarity. He had never felt the crippling loss of watching his planet disappear into nothingness, but he did know the pain of watching a place he called home crumble underneath him and losing everyone he loved. The moment his hand touched Spock’s, the Vulcan stiffened, head whipping around to stare at Jim with eyes as wide as a deer caught in the headlights.

“Sorry,” Jim grimaced, retracting his hand immediately, “Sometimes I forget other people like having personal space. I just...I want you to know that I sorta understand what you’re going through. I’m here for you if you need me.” His words echoed a similar promise made only a few months prior, one that had been a catalyst for Spock’s feelings. Yet again, it spurred him to make another unusual choice. Placing his hands on Jim’s shoulders, he pulled him into a stiff hug. Though a little awkward from lack of practice, Spock’s arms settled into a comfortable spot on Jim’s back. Kirk melted into him, his smaller body fitting into the pockets and edges of Spock’s body in such a natural way it was like piecing a puzzle together. Sometimes it was difficult for the pair to find quiet moments like this in the rushed life of higher ranking officers on a starship. Jim’s hands formed fists in the soft material of Spock’s robe and, for a time he was content to hold him.

* * *

Jim groaned, plodding down the hallway to his and Spock’s shared room. Though he had slept for over sixteen hours on the shuttle to New Vulcan, he was suppressing yawns and trying his hardest not to call it quits and lay down in the hall. An after effect of the blood transfusion, Bones had called it when he first started having trouble maintaining a regular sleeping pattern. That was post-freakout and multiple tests being run in the middle of the night.

The gentle tiptoe of socked feet on stone tile could be heard behind him. The gait, steady and calculated, had to be Spock’s. McCoy’s leisurely nature lended itself to a little swing in his slender hips and he had the slightest limp in his left leg which wasn’t particularly noticeable to most, but it made his step a little uneven.

“I'm going to warn you ahead of time. It's like Bones said, I'm a cuddler,” Jim called, taking a moment to rest against the door frame as Spock caught up. They were finally starting to settle into the comfort of having the other to lean on every once in a while. Bones had caught them mid hug earlier and there had been some blushing and coughing, but due to a number of similar instances in Sickbay before, they had long since overcome that kind of momentary awkwardness.

“I do not foresee that being an issue, Jim,” Spock said, the hint of a smirk rising on his face.

Both were now clad in their pajamas. Jim was sans shirt and wore shorts so small he was almost without pants as well. Spock had been introduced to Terran clothing in the past few months, after taking Nyota up on the shopping trip she had been wanting for ages. He had recently made the discovery that sweatpants and cotton flannels made excellent sleepwear when living aboard a ship designed with primarily human anatomy in mind. Spock made for an odd sight while wearing human clothing, but comfort outweighed total social acceptance.

They entered the room and Jim immediately set to work on the bed. He shoved nearly all of his covers down to the bottom of the bed and pushed the rest onto Spock's side. He flopped onto the bed and draped the thin white sheet over his legs, the translucent  material doing little to cover him. Spock raised an eyebrow at the bedspread, now in complete disarray.

"It's still hot as hell," Jim murmured in response to Spock's questioning look, shimmying into a comfy spot. Spock's eyebrow only escalated at this.

"It is not hell, Jim, but it is a desert planet," Spock said, "I believed that you were aware of this before your arrival."

"Was that a joke, Spock?" Jim chuckled, feeling a slight blush rise to his cheeks, but it didn't matter since he was already splotchy from the heat. If someone had informed him a year ago that Spock would become someone he would sacrifice whole worlds for, he would have been inclined to send them to Sickbay. But now... now was different and he was having a hard time adjusting. His feelings couldn't have chosen a more inopportune time to rear their ugly heads. The universe seemed to be conspiring to rob him of having a remotely normal life.

“Of course not. I have stated multiple times that Vulcans do not joke,” Spock manually set the lights to zero percent and slid into bed beside Jim. There was a moment of tense silence before Jim wiggled over to give him a little room and readjust to the new tilt in the mattress.

He mumbled, "Night," and curled in on his pillow, facing away from Spock and toward the balcony where stars could be seen in the night sky.

"Good night, Jim," Spock replied in perfect monotone, his voice echoing in the still of their dark room.

* * *

Spock woke up alone in bed, sunlight pushing past the thin curtains. It was much later than he normally rose on the ship, but recently he had been keeping the same erratic sleeping schedule as the Captain. He did his customary morning stretches and daily reinforcement of his mental shields, which took roughly a maximum of thirty minutes. He walked downstairs to find a sight he never expected to see. McCoy was furiously trying to cook something in a frying pan while Jim, with a fond grin, was clutching his coffee and swinging his legs from his high perch on a barstool. McCoy vigorously stabbed at the food with his spatula, "Dammit, Jim! I'm a doctor not a chef! We should've just used the replicator! Everything is sticking to the damn pan!"

A large flame erupted from the skillet causing Bones to yelp. He jammed it in the sink and turned on the water full blast. The fire was dispatched of with ease, leaving only a small puff of smoke and burnt smell which left via the open windows. Spock walked over to examine the mess, his curiosity now piqued. Peering into the sink, he found blackened remains floating around in the pan. "Doctor, may I inquire as to what you were attempting to make?" he asked, still studying the skillet.

"What's it look like?" McCoy grumbled loudly, "It's obviously a pancake. Haven't you ever seen a pancake?!"

"To be fair, Bones, it looks more like a wet pile of ash," Jim said, popping up behind Spock and peering over his shoulder on tiptoe, their faces side by side. Spock could feel the gentle scratch of his stubble against his cheek, alerting him to the fact Jim had yet to shave. He made an immediate side step, allowing Jim a better view and a chance to calm the racing of his heart at his side.

"It's not that bad," McCoy looked dejectedly at his burnt breakfast, "It may look kinda ugly but it's still a pancake." He swirled the rather sad looking flakes of what should have been breakfast with his spatula.

"My apologies, Doctor, but I must concur with Jim. I have consumed the Terran breakfast food previously and must inform you that your..." Spock struggled to find a word that wouldn't be misconstrued as an insult, "...creation is most certainly not a pancake."

"Okay, okay, so I'm shit at pancakes, but I make the best gumbo you will _ever_ have," Bones grouched, scraping the burnt substance into the sink and washing it down the drain.

"Looks like I'm making breakfast then," Jim swiped the skillet from McCoy who scowled at him.

After a bit of effort on Jim's part and some occasional assistance from Spock, a heaping mound of fried potatoes and other assorted vegetables sat between the trio. Most of the ingredients had to be replicated, save a few Vulcan vegetables growing in the garden behind the house. The foreign vegetables had made Bones skeptical at first, poking at a purple, rubbery sliver of something that vaguely resembled a radish. However, he soon warmed up to the odd looking array after adding replicated ketchup.

“I was thinking we might go out see New Shikahr,” McCoy said, inspecting his plate for missed crumbs. "You know, explore a little. I read a few brochures on the shuttle and there's some pretty interesting stuff to do."

“I thought you didn't want to be here," Jim chuckled in between bites, elbowing Bones playfully, "But, yeah, that'd be nice. I want to get some fresh stuff from the local produce market if they have one so we don't have to replicate everything.”

After breakfast, while waiting on Bones to clean up his previous disaster in the kitchen, Jim sat on the porch, watching the sun ascend over distant mountains crowning the horizon. Color spilled out on the clouds and sky like the yolk of an egg after it’s punctured. His hair blazed golden under the early sunlight and Spock, standing slightly behind him, felt that he could exist in this moment forever.

"The sunrise here is indeed beautiful,” Spock commented, hoping to garner Jim’s interest.

"But it isn't Vulcan's sunrise,” Jim said, glancing back at Spock, whose face was unreadable.

"What're y'all doing out here?" The heavy clack of confident steps sounded on the veranda and the pair turned to face the source. Bones was wearing an old, battered cowboy hat and a pair of boots to match. It was all Jim could do to stifle a laugh building deep in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter and I'll try to have the next one up soon!


	4. Quatervois

 

Bones was prodding his food suspiciously, the red mush squishing under his utensil. "Are you sure this is safe for human consumption?"

"Yes, doctor. May I remind you that this is the fifth time you have asked me that," Spock said, not even looking up from the PADD he was scanning. Jim scowled into his salad and stabbed one of the pale leaves. It didn't matter where they went, Bones still managed to force a variation of spinach on him. Every planet they visited had at least one food similar to it and the worst part was that they all tasted exactly the same.

“Does New Vulcan have any museums, yet?” Jim asked, trying to take his mind off of his leafy lunch. He ended up settling on studying the gentle curve of Spock’s jaw line as the Vulcan ate his own foliage filled dish.

“Yes, there is currently one in New Shikhar,” Spock replied, pulling something up on his PADD before clicking it off. “Before the loss of Vulcan, numerous artifacts had been sent to Andoria Prime for an exhibition, saving them from destruction.”

“Can we visit it today? I've been wanting to learn about Vulcan culture for some time, but Federation databases are somewhat lacking,” Jim grinned, looking like he would sprint directly to the museum if Spock would just give him a general direction to go in.

"Vulcan culture, huh," Bones chuckled, "You mean you want to look up Vulcan mating practices for-"

"Anyways," Jim cut in, giving McCoy the glare he saved for dealing with Klingons before turning back to Spock, "You said there was a museum nearby."

“The facilities are not far from here. As long as you are both comfortable with a short walk, we can tour it after lunch,” Spock said, receiving an agreement from both the doctor and Captain.

* * *

 

“Is that Surak?” Jim asked, nodding in the direction of a bronze colored sculpture that looked not unlike Spock himself. Draped in robes that barely touched the base of the sculpture, the statue's face had a look of serene and complete peace, as though no trouble in the universe could possibly bother him. One hand was raised in the Vulcan salute and the other held an open scroll with text engraved upon it. Something about it distinctly reminded Jim of the Statue of Liberty.

“It is indeed a depiction of him, derived mostly from the statistical likelihood of how ancient Vulcans of his region physically appeared,” Spock said, strolling closer to the figure. “We have little knowledge of what he looked like. At the time, artistic pursuits were not particularly useful or widely encouraged, therefore resulting in a lack of artwork from a crucial period in our history.”

"He looks a lot less imposing than I imagined. I was expecting something more along the lines of T'Pau or your father. Man, are they terrifying!"

Spock quirked an eyebrow at the comment but let it pass. Jim's first meeting with Sarek had obviously been made under unfortunate circumstances and, much to the Captain’s chagrin, he hadn’t exactly made the best first impression. He had met T'Pau earlier that year when the  _Enterprise_ was delivering some crew workers to New Vulcan. After enduring a three hour conference with Spock and Uhura on proper cultural practices, Jim was sure he had followed Vulcan etiquette to the letter, but she had still done that 'emotionless-but-totally-still-glaring' thing at him throughout their entire conversation. Both she and Spock had been blessed with the ability to look utterly disgusted but completely neutral at the same time. Turning his attention back to the statue, he noticed something interesting. "Spock, what exactly is on that scroll he's holding? I can't really read Vulcan very well, yet."

"It is a copy of his basic principles, represented by the traditional salute, as he is demonstrating. On the base of the statue, there is an inscription that details how they relate to one another. If you would prefer, I will read it to you, as it is in Vulcan as well."

"Yes, please," Jim replied, teeth flashing in a wide smile as his day got better and better. Captaining a starship left little room for spending quality time with Spock. The only opportunity they got to have this much time alone together was when they were trapped in the middle of a jungle trying to run from the local population.

Bones ambled along behind them, stopping occasionally to admire some of the ancient medical equipment displayed on one of the walls. He kept an eye on Jim and Spock from a distance, watching Jim dip in and out of the Vulcan’s way as they walked through the exhibits. There was a certain crinkle in Jim’s smile, a gleam in his eyes, a way he held himself around Spock that Bones had seen before in others but never in Jim. The kid was head-over-heels in love with the last person in the universe most would have expected, but Leonard had seen this coming for ages. Ever since Jim had told him that he and Spock were regularly playing chess, something Kirk had unsuccessfully tried to teach him at the Academy, Bones had a sneaking suspicion that one day Jim would bust into his office asking for advice on courting Vulcans. At least, that probably would have happened, but the whole incident with the warp core and being in the hospital for a few months was poorly timed. However, Bones noticed that Jim seemed to be doing just fine in the flirting category without his sage wisdom.

* * *

 

"Wow, these are beautiful! Spock, come look at these flowers," Jim exclaimed, waving the Vulcan over while he examined a small pot of bright cerulean flowers on display. They had been roaming through the Vulcan market area for about an hour now, looking at strange fruits, flowers, artifacts, and anything else that the average person could possibly desire. Spock took the offered pot from Jim’s outstretched hands. They matched his Captain's eyes, down to the darker veins in the petals that resembled the outer edge of Jim's iris.

“Ah, _Liliaceae Caesicius_. The species, colloquially referred to as 'Sovel's Folly', is considered to be a token of romantic love, much like red roses in human culture,” Spock rattled off, settling into his teaching voice. “A small percentage of Vulcan vegetation is blue, but this vivid shade was exceedingly rare. I find it odd that this species has survived the destruction of Vulcan.” He turned the pot over in his hands, examining the soft, blue leaves. The very fact that they were being sold in a Vulcan marketplace was unusual. Many Vulcans would recoil at the mere thought of buying something so bold and declarative in public. However, he recalled that his father presented his mother with a sample of the same species of flower in observance of the human holiday named after St. Valentine. He quietly paid for the flowers, concealing them deeply in a bag, after Jim moved on to other stands. Every now and then, he would glance furtively at the flowers, wondering if he was indeed taking the correct action.

* * *

 

Jim knew what was coming. He had seen it replayed over and over in his mind until he was sick, different people dying at his own hands. His eyes were always different, cold and dead like Kahn's this time. He watched his face contort in a wicked sneer, pulling away every trace of who he was until all that remained was a pair of hollow eyes. Jim jerked awake, heart pounding loudly in his chest, face wet and sticky. He could still smell the rotting flesh, baked under the humid summer sun, could still feel the burning of the core as his silver lady rose in return for his life. He felt his stomach turn, threatening to spill its contents. Jim whimpered, hands running through sweaty hair as his face scrunched up. The room was unfamiliar to him and strange shapes arose out of the blackness. The gentle hum of the ship was absent and he _couldn’t breathe_ . He felt the bed shift, instantly turning to face the cause.

"Jim?" It was Spock sitting upright in bed looking at him with wide eyes. Spock had stayed with him through countless episodes like this in the past few months. They hadn’t been as frequent lately and Jim had almost dared to hope that he had seen the last of them.

"I'm sorry," he shook his head, voice hoarse. "Just another nightmare, I didn't mean to-" Jim broke off, his voice cracking as a wave of nausea hit him. He dry heaved, clutching the blankets tightly, knuckles turning white with the force. He felt like he couldn't get enough air into his lungs. Memories kept resurfacing, things that he'd shoved so far down that they were never supposed to be seen again. His stubby fingers digging into Iowa soil as the car plummeted below him...his mother lying on the floor of the pavilion, blood seeping through her hair...hands pressed to thick glass and he was so close but the words wouldn’t come out...that nagging feeling he wasn't himself anymore, that he was being overtaken by something from the inside. Jim made a small keening noise as he feverishly clutched his hair.

Suddenly, Spock's warm hand brushed against his face, thumb softly rubbing the drying tears from his cheek. It was a familiar gesture by now. Jim tried to relax his tense body, feeling weak and shaky as one hand slid down to lay over Spock's, the other hitting the mattress. "It's my fault, Spock," he croaked, "All my fault. I'm so sorry."

"Jim," Spock said evenly, keeping his tone low and steady, "let me help." He merely nodded, leaning into the Vulcan's touch, needing physical affirmation of Spock's existence. The knot in his chest started to loosen as gentle hands smoothed away his memories. Spock acted as his mother had when he was young, after returning from a particularly nasty day at school.

The Vulcan pulled his Captain close to his body with Jim's head on his chest and stroked a hand through his soft hair, damp with cold sweat. Kirk trembled in his arms. Jim’s heart was thumping rapidly in his chest and Spock could hear it under the trembling breaths he drew. They had been through this far too many times for Spock or Dr. McCoy’s comfort.

It was nearly a half an hour later before Jim was calm. He had stopped shaking and the pitter-pat of his heartbeat had evened out.

“Sorry, Spock," Jim said, drawing one last shaky breath before pulling away from the comfortable curve of his neck, " I keep waking you up with all this nonsense. Vulcans probably don't even have to worry about this kind of stuff. I wish I could just deem it illogical and move on."

"For 3.7 months after the destruction of Vulcan, I had a recurring dream about the death of my mother," Spock murmured rather abruptly, averting his gaze from Jim's. What he failed to mention was that these dreams had cropped up again, only this time, Jim and the radiation chamber played a much more prominent role. He had ceased to have them a few weeks after Jim came out of his coma. Nevertheless, dreams of a darker nature were highly irregular for Vulcans, usually only the product of psi-trauma.

"Shit," Jim groaned, face crinkling in embarrassment, “I’m sorry, Spock. I didn’t know...”

“It is of no great consequence,” Spock dismissed his blunder. “Jim, for some time I have wondered if you would be... I may be able to alleviate some of your mental unrest if you would be willing to share your mind with me.” He raised a gentle hand to Jim's face and Jim, acting on instinct, jerked back. A crease formed between Spock’s eyebrows as his hand slowly fell away and Jim felt like the hand had taken all the warmth Spock had given him for the past hour with it. “I apologize for the intrusion. I did not mean to invade in any way.”

“It’s okay, Spock. I’m a little uncomfortable with the whole mind meld thing,” Jim confessed, thinking back to the unfortunate events of Delta Vega. “Can you just…” he trailed off, looking at a loss for what to do. Strong arms wrapped around his torso and Jim sighed with relief, leaning into the Vulcan’s warm frame and whispering words of thanks. He lay awake later, almost asleep, hazy thoughts drifting back and forth. Jim was scared that he'd offended Spock; Vulcans just didn't do physical contact, but here he was, lying snugly in Spock’s embrace. Perhaps he should return the favor in the form of a meld.

* * *

 

Jim woke to the pleasant sight of the morning sun tipping over the horizon of New Vulcan. The gentle rumble of Spock’s deep breathing provided a soothing rhythm that complemented the still calm of the early hours, when even the birds were still stretching their wings. A large hand held purchase on his hip and the other cradled his head, pulling him into the space under Spock’s chin so that he was pressed flush against the Vulcan’s body. Their legs tangled under the heavy covers that Jim knew would soon become unbearably hot. It would be hard going back to waking up alone, especially when Spock was his bed partner. With the events of the previous night almost forgotten, Jim moved to ease his way out of the bed, but the hand that had lain on his hip moved down to his back, preventing any attempts of escape. Jim sighed, trying to nudge the blankets off of their legs. He was finally getting payback for trapping Bones in bed at the Academy.

* * *

 

"Guess who's coming home this week?" Jim yelled, barreling into the kitchen while waving his PADD wildly. Spock raised an amused eyebrow at Jim's flamboyance.

"Who?" Bones grumbled into his coffee. His morning caffeine had yet to kick in and Jim, hyperactive on a good day, had managed to swipe half of the pot he brewed when he was in the bathroom.

"Old Spock!" Jim plopped down on the sofa between his friends. "We should invite him over. Bones hasn't had a chance to meet him in person yet." Jim winked, elbowing Spock, whose amused eyebrow had fallen. It wasn’t that Spock disliked his counterpart but there was a distinctly unsettling feeling about being in the same room with someone who was and wasn’t you. Jim seemed to be utterly infatuated with the older man and Spock couldn’t fathom why. What quality did he lack that made his counterpart so appealing to his Captain?

Bones hoisted himself off the couch to go refill his cup, which left Jim and Spock alone and out of McCoy’s earshot. Seeing this as a perfect opportunity, Jim leaned over to Spock and asked, “Do you think you could actually help me get rid of my nightmares with a meld?”

The Vulcan nodded and replied, “Yes, though it would be more helpful to simply guide you through meditation. This would provide you with a basis with which to clear your mind and the nightmare of your own accord rather than requiring me to assist you every time such an incident occurs.”

Jim grimaced and said, “Yeah, I think I’d like to try that. Oh, and could you not tell Bones about this? I don’t want him to know that I’m still having nightmares.”

“You’re having _what!_ ” McCoy squawked, having snuck up behind the couch without either noticing.

“Nothing!” Jim shouted and took off down the hall with the doctor in hot pursuit. With no one around to see, Spock allowed himself the liberty of an amused smile.

* * *

 

It took Spock the entire afternoon to find a time when Dr. McCoy wasn’t present. Though he and the doctor were close, it would do little for his confidence to have the other man present while trying to make a romantic gesture towards Jim. The Captain had gone for a short run outside, after lunch, which had turned into Dr. McCoy dragging him back inside and giving him a lecture on sun poisoning, the dangers of local fauna, and proper exercise when recovering from a coma on an oxygen deprived planet. The doctor had then sent Jim upstairs to take a shower and a short midday nap to make up for the previous night. Spock sat on their bed, trying to calm the nervousness that kept flaring up within him while he waited for Jim to exit the bathroom. When he heard the steady noise of the sonic shower click off, Spock hurriedly stood, checking to see if the small pot of 'Sovel's Folly' had spontaneously wilted in the five minutes since he had taken his eyes off of it. The door to the adjoining bathroom swished open to reveal Jim, his hair still soaking wet and a towel thrown over his shoulder.

Spock, at a loss for words, grabbed the pot and thrust it towards his Captain. His words, rather than gracefully waltzing out as they normally did, fell out of his mouth so quickly that he had little time to realize what he was saying, "I purchased these at the market yesterday because you seemed to be very interested in the species. They are a particularly attractive specimen and complement the vivid shade of your eyes well."

"I...thank you, Spock," Jim answered seeming dazed but altogether happy. He reached out to take the gift from Spock and nearly caused a disaster. Their fingers brushed as Jim took the pot and Spock, having his mental shields only partially raised, felt as embarrassed as he would have if someone had ran up and kissed him rather solidly on the mouth. The sudden flash of overwhelming joy he received from Jim was enough to make him nearly drop the pot. A bashful green blush rose to his cheeks at the sudden thought of his Captain doing that intentionally. Immediately chastising himself, Spock tried to forget the image, but now that the delightful thought had been planted, it started to take root and only further encouraged the heat burning high on his face.

"I'm going to take these downstairs and sit them in the kitchen. The room could use a little more decor," Jim beamed as he admired the plant, unaware of what he had just done to his First. "Seriously, Spock, thank you."

Flashing another bright grin at the Vulcan, who by now was roughly the color of grass, Jim turned and walked out the door, leaving his poor, flustered First Officer behind.

* * *

 

“You’re welcome to join us, Doctor,” Spock said, lighting the sticks of incense and then straightening his posture. He had set up his meditation mat and supplementary items out on the veranda, where he thought Jim might feel most comfortable. McCoy had joined them, partially to monitor Jim’s health and partially to enjoy the rare mild temperature of the evening.

"Nahh, I'm not big on that Vulcan voodoo stuff. I think I'll just sit and watch. Keep my sweet tea company," Bones said, settling back in his chair. The warm orange of the setting sun cast a gentle glow on his tired face and he was finally starting to feel truly at ease on Vulcan. The heat reminded him of the humid, muggy nights he spent in Georgia growing up and running so far from home into the orchards that all he could see was fireflies and stars.

"Suit yourself," Jim said, coming back out from the living room. He plopped down adjacent to Spock on the meditation mat. The familiar smell of incense curled through the air, drifting on the soft, desert breeze. He had often gone to Spock's quarters for a chess match in the past few months and had learned to recognize when Spock had been meditating before he arrived. The scent had a tendency to linger in the air and on clothing. There had been nights where he would fall asleep clutching a shirt he had worn to Spock’s earlier that day, just because he found the lingering scent of incense calming.

They sat cross legged, facing each other with only the incense burning between them. Spock took a deep breath and the tension began to fall out of his body at a slow but visible pace. Jim, as previously instructed, mimicked him, relaxing his muscles and taking the same steady breaths.

“My mind to your mind,” Spock began the meld and though he was no longer physically speaking, his words easily flowed into Jim’s mind. " _My thoughts to your thoughts."_

_Unlike the chaotic meld on Delta Vega, this time the outside world began to fade gradually until there was only him, Spock, and the darkness. The Vulcan’s presence was like a steady hum in the back of his mind, a base note around which to arrange a symphony...he felt as though he had a body but at the same time he felt endless, as if a human could contain the entirety of the universe within himself._

_Slowly, there came light. Pinprick after pinprick, spilling out around him as if stars could be poured like water from a bucket. When he reached for them, dark hues of color sloshed around his feet and curled in spirals throughout his being. He pulled at the stars as they burst into vivid richness. Sounds came to him next. Every orchestra he had ever heard; every band; the duet Spock and Uhura had once performed in the Rec Room; the old Terran songs his mother used to play around the house when she was home; all the hours he had spent learning guitar and piano, all blurred together, harmoniously blending. Conversations he had tucked away in his mind echoed back to him, the music playing in the bar during the first and last times he had talked to Pike...the tonal switch that accompanied Ambassador Spock's humor...the way that Bones’ laugh could sound so much like his mother’s...Uhura teaching him bits of Swahili over lunch...the steady hum of the Enterprise's engines at night when he lay awake, grounding him every time he jerked awake. Memories that weren’t his own flooded his mind, running like rivulets through unseen holes and filling all the dark places of himself that he hated with bright, all-encompassing warmth and love._

_Then Spock stood before him, holding his hand out to his Captain as if he were offering his own life. Before he could even think, Jim felt himself reach out to take Spock’s hand-_

Suddenly, Jim felt the world being pulled out from under him as he rushed back into his own head. It took a moment for him to focus but, when his vision cleared, he was greeted by Bones ogling him from his seat, sweet tea forgotten, and Spock looking almost stricken with his lips pressed into a thin line. He was looking at a point over Jim's shoulder, refusing to meet his eyes. "It appears that my attempt to guide you through meditation was unsuccessful due to my lack of self control. I apologize," he said, face drawn tightly blank, "If you will excuse me." He stood and returned inside without even a glance at Jim.

"What the heck just happened?" Bones asked, stunned look still present, "Is he pissed that he couldn't help you meditate?"

"No, I don't think so. He said something about..." Jim paused, staring over his shoulder to where Spock had exited. "It seemed to be going just fine and then, all of a sudden, he stopped the whole thing. Now that you mention it, it wasn’t exactly like the calming meditation Spock described. Maybe I just fucked up really badly and he never wants me near his head again.”

“Jim, I think he needs some time to cool off. If you had done something wrong, we would know it by now,” Bones said in an attempt to be reassuring but, judging from Jim’s forlorn stare, his words had little effect.

* * *

 

By the time Jim got back to their room, Spock was already in deep meditation, which only made him feel worse about the whole situation. He crawled into bed and proceeded to lay awake in the dark for an uncertain amount of time, tossing and turning frequently. Eventually, he called out, “Spock? You still up?”

Receiving no reply, Jim decided he might as well talk to the darkness and pretend Spock was listening, “I... You’re gonna think this is completely illogical and if you laughed you'd laugh at me for this but I feel like...I'm trying to remember someone I've never met. Like there's this big empty hole inside my head and the harder I try to ignore it, the bigger it gets. It...it makes me feel a little lonely sometimes. I feel like I’m missing someone all the time and I can’t even figure out why. I’d tell Bones but he’s worried enough as it is.”

Little known to the Captain, Spock was listening and his heart was sinking quickly. Jim was describing the sensation of an unfulfilled bond. He had let his control slip and Jim was now suffering the consequences. So preoccupied in his self-flagellation was Spock that he missed what his Captain said afterward.

Jim rolled over on his side, slightly muffled against the pillows, “The only time I’ve felt right was when you were in my head. I almost wish you were there all the time."

* * *

 

It was not Jim who rose in the wee hours of the morning but, instead, Spock. Rigorous meditation had provided him with no answers that he found to be an adequate explanation of his behavior. He had inadvertently attempted to bond with his Captain, with no consent whatsoever. The erratic lack of control he had displayed in the meld with Jim was  _unacceptable._ Despite the most vehement rejection from the entirety of his being, Spock knew that he would have to inform Jim of what he had done and remove the spontaneous bond he had formed with the Captain many months prior. An uneasy feeling of guilt settled into his body. Hoping to shake it off, he pushed up from his sitting position on the floor and headed downstairs to the kitchen. What he found wasn’t entirely surprising. Dr. McCoy was rustling around, muttering something about how it was “damn impossible to synthesize a good bourbon in the dark.” Hearing Spock come into the room, he rose from his kneeling position and closed the cabinet he had been up to his elbows in.

“What’re you doing up this late, Spock? I know that you don’t need as much sleep as humans, as you’re so fond of telling us all the time, but you do need to take a break every once in a while,” Bones said, leaning against the countertop. Receiving no immediate reply, he continued, “What you did earlier today was kinda' shit. Jim gets real nervous when people walk out on him and then refuse to talk to him for the rest of the evening. You don’t really understand, Spock, that he still needs time to grieve and process his losses. He's got a whole lotta baggage he's never really picked through and if he's willing to open up to you about it, you better damn well let him.”

The doctor sauntered up into his personal space, head tilting up so that Spock could see his eyes even in the low light. His voice was soft but carried an undertone of protective fire. “If you hurt him like he’s been hurt before, I will hunt you down and hypo your ass so hard that you'll have Hycretion 'flu for the rest of your sorry life.”

“It was not my intent to harm, Doctor,” Spock said, trying to back away from McCoy. The doctor got under his skin like no other, knowing exactly which buttons to push until he felt a familiar rage boiling underneath his calm facade.

“I know it’s never an _intent_ for you to hurt him but you do, more often than you know about. If you two are going to do this whole relationship deal, you’re gonna have to start having a little more awareness of each other!” McCoy's hard edge softened a bit and he backed away from Spock, just far enough that they both had a little breathing room. “Jim’s been through some rough shit lately and so have you. Don’t act like you haven’t. I was there when you brought him up to Sickbay and I was there when you dragged in Khan. You’re both hurting pretty badly but that's no excuse for either of you to go around using the other as an emotional punching bag. So go back up there and apologize. Lord knows, the kid’s not asleep yet.”

“I...thank you, Doctor,” Spock said and turned tail, fleeing from the room. When he returned to the room, it was as McCoy predicted. Jim was sitting up in bed, head resting on his knees, waiting for Spock.

“You got up and I wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m sorry if I upset you earlier today with the whole meld thing,” he said, as Spock halted just inside the door. He slid out of bed and padded cautiously towards Spock.

“I wish to apologize for my actions earlier today. They were uncalled for and I unknowingly injured your feelings. I-” Spock began, relying on a general form he had been taught for diplomatic apologies.

“It's okay, Spock,” Jim sighed with a shrug. He looked tired, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced than ever, especially on his lean face. While his recovery was coming along well, he had lost a large portion of his muscle mass that would take him months to healthily regain.

“But, Jim-” Spock protested, wanting to make sure his Captain knew that he intended to avoid future altercations of this nature. If Dr. McCoy was right and he had been hurting Jim unknowingly, it had to end then and there.

“I said forget it,” Jim’s shoulders sagged with an annoyed groan. “It's too damn late at night to be trying to fix this mess. Will you please just come to bed with me?” He offered up his open palm to Spock, who took it without hesitation.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I really appreciate all the positive feed back y'all have been giving me.


	5. Lacuna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! There are some mentions of abuse, starvation, and some other nasty things towards the end of this chapter. It's nothing too graphic, but I just wanted those of you who have triggers to be aware.

 The Ambassador was greeted at the door by Jim, who looked so ecstatic that it seemed he might burst with the force of it. His bright enthusiasm reminded Spock of his own Captain, years ago when they were still aboard the _Enterprise_.

“It's so good to see you!” Jim blurted out, acting as though he might fling himself into the Vulcan’s arms at any moment. It had been ages since they had a chance to talk face to face, the last time being six months ago when the _Enterprise_ was on a supply run to New Vulcan.

“It is indeed quite satisfying to see you again, old friend,” Spock replied, affection apparent in his twinkling eyes.

He was guided into the kitchen and informed that he had arrived just in time for lunch. His counterpart nodded a greeting, holding his hand out in the ta’al.  The Ambassador reciprocated in kind, noticing how tired the young Vulcan looked. He stared at Spock a beat longer before a small glint of blue on a coffee table caught his attention. He strolled over to the table and picked up the small pot of flowers, surprised that the plant was being openly displayed when company was present. He knew that Kirk and McCoy likely had no idea what the flowers represented, but his younger counterpart would know better. The elder Vulcan examined the blue blossoms while Jim flitted around the Ambassador like an excited puppy.

"Spock got those for me the other day," he grinned, looking at his First Officer with rather adoring eyes. Spock sat on the couch, carefully observing the pair’s interactions as a slight blush rose to his cheeks. It was illogical to pray that your counterpart from another dimension would refrain from commenting on the meaning of a gift you gave to your Captain, but nevertheless, Spock felt the urge to try it. The Ambassador merely raised a gray eyebrow, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.

Bones came down the stairs, having donned the finest plaid shirt he owned. While he wasn’t exactly looking forward to the prospect of another Spock to harass him for his illogical tendencies, this stranger from another universe made Jim smile like it was Christmas. He had never even seen this guy before, much less talked to him, but, for Kirk’s sake, he wanted to make a decent impression.  When he walked into the kitchen, an old Vulcan standing next to the Captain immediately turned, setting Jim’s weird plant down and raising the ta’al to greet him.

“It is good to meet you, Dr. McCoy. Jim has told me much about you,” Ambassador Spock said, a warm smile obvious on his face.

Bones, a little shocked by such a blatant display of emotion on a Vulcan’s face, blushed and stuttered a little before murmuring, “Nice to meet you, too.”

“Have you been enjoying your stay on New Vulcan?” the Ambassador asked, his full attention on the doctor.

“Yeah, um, y’all have done a great job rebuilding everything and the weather is better than I thought it would be, even if it’s a bit harder to breathe,” Bones rocked back and forth on his heels. He might be able to warm up to this older version of Spock, who seemed to like him fairly well.

“I’m gonna start lunch,” Jim piped up, heading toward the stove, “If anyone wants to help, you’re welcome to it.”

“Mr. Spock, I would be gratified if you would grant me a short tour of the house before our meal,” the Ambassador said, striding smoothly towards the hallway as Spock got up to follow him.

The moment that they were upstairs and out of earshot of their human friends, the Ambassador turned to Spock with a calculating look. “You are troubled,” he stated bluntly, “what is the cause of your affliction?” Spock’s lips parted slightly, his fist clenching as he struggled not to feel disappointed in how easily his counterpart could read his emotions, not to mention the embarrassment of showing any outward signs of his internal conflict.

His eyes dropped to the floor for only a moment before he said, “I believe that I have unintentionally formed a preliminary bond with Jim,” There was a look of mild surprise in the Ambassador’s eyes but he gave away little, despite his open demeanor.

“What is your hypothesis on the cause of this bond? Close companionship while under duress, perhaps?” The eyes of Spock's older counterpart traced every movement he made. It was an obvious test, but Spock didn’t know what he was being tested on. Years of training as an ambassador were evident in the older Vulcan as his sharp gaze pinned Spock like a specimen to be examined. It was the same one Spock had always seen on his father’s face whenever he had acted in a particularly human manner.

“I am... in love with my Captain,” Spock said, trying to avoid eye contact with his counterpart. A heavy tension fell into the room and the younger Vulcan was considering asking if he could be excused from this discussion.

“Believe me when I say I understand your predicament." The Ambassador’s gravelly voice broke the silence and it took Spock a short moment before realization dawned upon him.

“You and your James Kirk... you were _bonded_?” Spock’s voice held a tone of amazement. It was a glimmer of hope that he was surprised to find, especially since it came from his counterpart. It meant that there was a chance, however small, that Jim might be open to a relationship with him.

“Yes, but it was only after many years that we admitted romantic feelings towards each other. I had previously gone to great lengths to purge myself of those emotions but, in the end, I realized it was futile,” the Ambassador said, the shifting of his broad shoulders softened by the curves of his dark robe.”What is your current mental state with the added effects of an unfulfilled bond?”

“My shields have been all but stripped away, leaving my mind free to project and receive any unguarded thoughts I encounter. It has progressed to the extent that I am cautionary of physical contact with Jim for fear that I will attempt to fully bond with him. I have still not fully recovered from the loss of Vulcan and… my mother. I doubt that I will be able to function properly as First Officer aboard the _Enterprise_. What is your recommendation for dealing with this issue?”

“Explain what you have done to Jim. He will understand and accept you,” the Ambassador intoned calmly.

“Why do you believe he will be so willing to forgive such a serious transgression?” Spock asked in a puzzled tone. He strongly desired to believe his counterpart, but it was difficult, given the extent of his violation of Jim’s being.

“Why do you have so little faith in him? There is still much you have to learn about humans, particularly their extraordinary capacity for forgiveness. I believe our mother would be an excellent example of someone who possessed this ability,” he said, with an air of finality, before returning to the lower floor, leaving Spock alone with his thoughts.

* * *

Hours after lunch, when the Ambassador departed, Spock did something altogether unexpected. He went seeking the help of Leonard McCoy, who at the time was trying to take a nap in his room. With little fanfare, Spock burst into the small bedroom and immediately began to recite his request to the halfway conscious doctor.

“Dr. McCoy, I must ask a favor of you. I wish to know more about Jim’s life before joining Starfleet so as to gain a better understanding of him in order to avoid offending him in the future, as per your advice,” Spock rattled off, as though he had memorized a small speech.

Bones sat up, giving a slightly bewildered look before a much more serious expression came over his face. He picked up a cup of coffee on his nightstand, took a sip, and grimaced as he tried to formulate the appropriate words.

“Jim... Jim, never really had a childhood, Spock,” McCoy sighed, setting his cold coffee down and rising from his seat on the bed. He paced back and forth before turning to face the Vulcan again. “This isn’t a conversation I’m going to have with you because it's not my place to tell you his story. You’ll have to bring this shitstorm up with him at your own risk.”

He paused, crouching down to his disheveled suitcase and pulled out a bottle of what was no doubt an alcoholic product. “I recommend taking this with you.”

He stood and handed the bottle to Spock. The Vulcan examined it carefully, making sure it wasn’t an illegal substance, before thanking McCoy and exiting the room just as unceremoniously as he had entered. Thirty minutes later, after Spock had gathered enough courage, Jim was on the receiving end of said bottle. Up until that point, he had been relaxing on the veranda, but when Spock suddenly had questions about Jim's personal life, his evening quickly became very complicated.

“No, Spock,” he chuckled, no real humor behind the laugh. He took the bottle from the Vulcan and set it down gingerly on the deck, “If we’re going to talk about my past, you deserve for me to be sober.” He went back into the kitchen, replicated two cups of a Vulcan tea that tasted vaguely of grass, and returned outside. He sat down in one of the wicker chairs, offering a cup to Spock. He took it and sat beside Jim, having no clue of what to expect next.

“Alright,” Jim sighed, a vaguely distant look in his eyes, “When I was about six we moved in with my Uncle Frank, who was one fucked up bastard. He was my dad’s step-brother and about the only family we had left to go to when Mom was off planet. She was rarely home often enough to see what happened on a regular basis and Frank was always on his best behavior around her. Not that I blame her for being away so often, I probably would have done the same thing in her place. She made good money in Starfleet and her skill set was specifically for starship engineering. She wouldn’t be able to get a job anywhere else that paid that much.

Anyways, Uncle Frank had this thing about my father. He was always really envious of him, since George was the star child of the family, being the first to make it into space out of the Kirk line. All that pent up rage he had been saving for years had nowhere to go after my father died, that is until my brother, Sam and I moved in with him. Frank drank during most of the day, didn’t do any housework, and was generally a shit person so we learned how to take care of ourselves at an early age. It wasn’t always bad, but the more Frank had to drink and the longer he had to stare at us, the more he thought about Dad and the angrier he got. You have no idea what it’s like to have some drunk idiot breathing down your neck all day and knowing, no matter what you do or how good you are, you’re going to be beaten to a pulp by bedtime. Fortunately for Sam and I, he was the biggest homophobe in the west, so we were usually spared his more... _lecherous_ tendencies.”

Spock’s mind tripped over the word _usually_ , his stomach already turning with the thought of Jim enduring a childhood of abuse. He wanted to say something reassuring to Jim, but not only did he not have the proper words, he knew his Captain wouldn’t appreciate being interrupted right now.

“Since I am what Bones would call a ‘spitting image’ of my dad, I bore the brunt of most of his anger but Sam still got his fair share. He was a lot more outspoken than I was, back then, if you can believe it. When I was eleven, Sam packed his bags and left. He said he couldn’t be a Kirk while living with Frank so I did what I do best and raised a little hell. I thought that’s what being a Kirk meant. Frank was planning on selling one of the vintage cars that used to be Dad’s. It was a classic Chevrolet Corvette, a really gorgeous antique with the wheels and everything. I was supposed to be washing it when Sam decided to leave town. Shortly after he had stormed out of the house, I hot-wired the car, burned out of the driveway, and pretty soon, I was flying down a dirt road at about eighty miles per hour. That's when the local law enforcement showed up and, being an eleven year old with a lot of pent up emotions and no common sense, I decided the best course of action would be to drive the car over a cliff just so Frank couldn’t have it back. I wasn’t really sure how I was going to get out of the car before I crashed it and, for a few moments, I didn’t really want to get out of it. In the end, I made up my mind and jumped out at the last second. Stealing the car did nothing to bring Sam home though. By the time any attempt to look for him was made, he was already off planet and long gone. I didn’t hear from him until shortly after I was promoted to Captain and given the _Enterprise_.

When Frank told Mom that Sam had run away and I crashed a car, she came home to find out what the hell was going on. She arrived a day early and caught him during one of his drinking sessions which had devolved into him using me as his personal punching bag,” Jim stared deeply into the dark liquid of his tea, his eyebrows furrowed. “She beat the tar out of him, called the police, and then filed a report of child abuse which led into several weeks in court and a five year sentencing for Frank. About three months after he got out of prison, he ended up getting arrested for killing a man while driving drunk. As far as I know, he’s still in jail. After Mom came home, she decided we needed a change of venue and turned in her resignation to Starfleet. We packed everything important into three bags and moved to a small farming planet, far from any major Federation ports, called Tarsus IV.”

Spock’s eyes visibly widened at the mention of Tarsus IV. He had heard of it before, but never knew Jim had been a part of that catastrophic colony.

“Five years with Frank didn’t compare to what happened on Tarsus. It was good for the first few months, probably the happiest point in my childhood. It was the first time in my life that I had any semblance of normality. However, after my thirteenth birthday, things started to take a turn for the worst. We heard rumors about a virus killing all the crops on the eastern side of the planet for several weeks and then the government sent out a mandate that all food would be rationed until further notice. Most of the population was in a frenzy because of the food shortage, but when Kodos sent out the proclamation that half of the colony was to die so the other half could live… that was when everything went to hell.

We lived near the Capitol and heard that Kodos was going to address the current food shortage. His speech announcing his decision was broadcast planet wide, but Mom and I attended it live in a small plaza. He had told everyone it was going to be good news. It was supposed to be _good news_ that four thousand people were going to die based on their genetics. After the speech the entire planet stood still for a moment then came the roar. The crowd around Kodos devolved into one giant fight and phaser fire was all around us. Mom carried me out alive but not without getting several bruises herself. The entire city had erupted into mass chaos and several of Kodos’ troops were already storming through the streets, mowing down anyone who came within range.

Mom was one hell of a fighter though and, like the rest of the Kirk family, didn’t believe in no-win scenarios. It took us three days to make it out of the city and by that time, we had gained a few extra people. Whenever Mom found a child whose parents had been killed or had left them, she would take their hand and pull them along with us. By the time we made it out, we had nine other mostly human children with us. There was Tommy Leighton, Han Urhai, K’pet Wan, Kevin Riley, Lola Drake, three toddlers whose names we never actually knew, and a baby. We ended up naming the toddlers George, Mark, and Leila. The baby was Orion and Mom gave him a very long, traditional name that was eventually shortened to Lauret."

Jim's face softened into a smile at the memory. He hadn't talked to any of them for a while, despite the fact he still commed them annually on their birthdays. Jim was particularly excited for Lauret's upcoming thirteenth birthday because he had learned a very rough translation of "Happy Birthday" in Orion.

Remembering that Spock was still waiting for him to go on, Jim cleared his throat and said, "After leaving the city, we trekked into the wilderness to make ourselves a hideout, sometimes skirting close to towns but rarely ever going into them. The scene was the same in all of them though. Thin, whispy people with hungry eyes and bloody hands, dead in the streets. However, they weren’t there for long. Usually, after they collapsed, someone who looked about the same would pull them out of the road and… eat them. It didn’t matter how rotten their corpse was from sitting in the sun or how many maggots were already swimming in their insides; there was always someone who was willing to go that far to live. Mom never let us touch any of the bodies, but I wouldn’t have anyways. I would’ve rather starved than lower myself to that point."

"Mom obviously felt the same way and that became more and more apparent the longer we were out in the wilds. Tommy and I, being the oldest, were put in charge while she was away gathering food. We came close to being discovered by Kodos’ troops a few times, but we always managed to scrape by. After an episode like that, the younger kids would crawl into Mom’s lap and cry while she tried to soothe them. I didn’t notice it at the time, but she didn’t eat much and rarely drank, always saving what she could for me and the rest of the kids. It was hard to recognize how quickly her health was failing when everyone around me was starving too. She came into camp late one day after gathering food and laid down just outside of the firelight. I remember getting up and sitting next to her while the other kids ate. Protecting nine hungry kids was beginning to take its toll on her and she didn’t have much time to look after herself so I had decided that it would be my job to take care of her in any way that I could. I brushed her hair out with my hands and pulled all the leaves and mud clots out of it. As I did this, she began to tell me about all the things she loved in the world and she kept repeating that she was so glad she could see the stars tonight. She told me about the way it feels when you go to warp and what it’s like to be at home somewhere among the stars. I told her that I would enlist in Starfleet so that we could have the same home in space. She sighed, closed her eyes, and said, ‘That would be lovely, Jim.’ She didn’t say anything after that and I curled up next to her and fell asleep. It wasn’t until the next morning that I realized she had died."

Jim eyes had adopted a glazed look and he seemed somewhat removed from reality as though he was no longer sitting with Spock. A heavy ache was beginning to rise in his chest as memories he had suppressed started to surface.

"A few of the older kids and I dug a ditch with our hands to bury her in. We piled as much of the dirt as we could back over her and placed the largest flat rock we could find at her feet. I carved a small star into it with one of the makeshift knives we had made a while back. Some of the younger ones cried, but the rest of us knew that, no matter how much we wanted to cry, we had to move on quickly and pick up where she left off or else we would all starve. In the end, I took Mom’s place as the leader of the group. I remember collapsing with sheer relief when we saw Starfleet personnel arrive at our campsite to take us all home.

I did some... _unsavory_ things on Tarsus to protect those kids but it was an unsavory place. I got most of our food because I didn’t want any of the others to be put in the kind of danger that was inherent in scouting. Trading for food was nasty business but usually the only option we had. Money was worthless at that point and I wasn't strong enough to do any manual labor, but… there were other uses for my body.” Spock’s grip tightened around his cup, lips parting in silent horror. Though he didn’t elaborate, Jim’s meaning was obvious.

“Anything to protect your family, right... "Jim trailed off and then turned to look at Spock, "My crew is my family." The haunting words echoed and rattled through Spock’s brain, reminding him of the lengths Jim had gone to, to fulfill Khan’s unintentionally ironic statement. Jim turned his gaze out to the desert, a hand shifting through his hair absent-mindedly. There was a glassy mist in his eyes, threatening to spill over.

“On Delta Vega, when the Ambassador melded with me, I saw something I don’t think I was supposed to... It was a memory of your death. I was in the radiation chamber, but it was different. I was you and I could see myself  on the other side of the glass, but I was also me and all I could think was ‘If I could just touch him’. It was _really_ fucking strange,” Jim’s chuckle was humorless. His hand rubbed over his face, trying to swipe away the wetness trickling down it.

“When the whole thing with Khan happened, I could see that we were going through the motions and I… I got a chance to switch our places. You died when I should have and I wasn’t going to let you do it twice. I remember lying in the radiation chamber with you and feeling the _Enterprise_ shudder underneath us. All I could think was how much I was going to miss that feeling… how much I was going to miss you... Now that I know what it feels like to lose you… I don’t think I could stand to do it again. ”

“If you thought you couldn’t bear my death, what made you even remotely consider that the inverse wouldn’t be true as well,” Spock’s voice grated harshly against the silence, causing Jim’s gaze to dart back towards him. The Captain’s cheeks were visibly streaked with tears and his eyes looked fatigued.

“You don’t understand, Spock! It was like losing half of myself. I was so lonely in my head and you didn’t die, but I still feel like I’m missing part of me,” he croaked, tears flowing freely now. His gaze bored into the floor, a faraway look passing over his face as he said, barely above a whisper, “I don’t want to lose you.”

“Nor I, you. I _do_ understand, Jim,” Spock took Jim’s hands within his own, tracing his thumb over the smooth curves of his t’hy’la’s knuckles. At this point, there could be no doubt in his mind; Spock would gladly follow this man to the ends of the universe, no matter what the cost.

“I know you do,” Jim whispered, gently pressing his forehead against the backs of Spock’s hands, “I know you do.” Spock could feel his Captain’s tears dripping down onto his skin. He tilted Jim’s head up so that their eyes met and wiped the tears from his face, carefully avoiding his psi-points.

“Sorry to get so emotional,” Jim’s voice was watery and thick. He sniffed, leaning back in his chair and running his hands through his hair. “I know how uncomfortable it makes you.”

“With you, it does not matter,” Spock replied, knowing full well that he should tell his Captain about the bond, especially after he had willingly shared so much of himself and his past. “Jim, I-”

“Spock, I don’t want to talk about any of it right now. Can you just sit quietly with me for a while?” Jim sighed, cutting Spock off mid-confession. Now that he had been interrupted and given a way out, Spock immediately lost the resolve he had before. The moment had passed and he would have to wait for another appropriate opportunity, which unfortunately wouldn’t come for several days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I really appreciate all the wonderful feedback you guys have been giving me!


	6. Velleity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning, there are some mentions of abuse in this chapter. They are in the middle of the chapter and can be avoided if that's not something you're comfortable reading about.

It soon became clear to Jim that public transportation on Vulcan was far more awkward than on any other planet. There were no uncomfortably close crowds or loud confrontations on Vulcan shuttles, but there was an ever present atmosphere of stiffness that would make any non-Vulcan cringe and run for the hills. He suspected the reason that they were attracting disapproving looks from the locals was partially because of their odd appearance. Bones had wrapped himself around the largest beach umbrella Spock and Jim had ever seen in order to keep it from whacking anyone sitting nearby. Spock sat to McCoy’s left, leaning slightly into Jim as he scoured a PADD for tips on creating the perfect atmosphere for a beach excursion. Jim, enjoying his proximity to Spock, was wearing the brightest, most ridiculous swimming trunks known to man and smiling widely at anyone willing to make eye contact with him.

The trio had decided that they were experiencing an unprecedented amount of impassioned drama for what was supposed to be a relaxing vacation and McCoy, in a self-proclaimed stroke of pure genius, suggested that they make use of New Vulcan’s ocean since the nearest public beach was only an hour away by shuttle.  After seeing Jim’s excitement at McCoy’s idea, Spock was determined to make their day a complete success in order to compensate for his recent insensitivity towards his t’hy’la’s emotional needs.

Jim had spent most of the long ride studying Spock’s face as he did his research, all the subtle ticks in his jaw whenever he saw something utterly illogical. The gentle curve of his black hair managed to soften the sharp angles of his face. It had grown long in the past few months since Spock had spent so much time looking after Jim that he had neglected his own personal care. Jim had been considering asking Bones if he would be willing to give the Vulcan a haircut when he felt the shuttles brakes kick in, inertia pushing him back slightly into his seat.

Flashing an excited grin, Jim unbuckled his seatbelt and started to rise out of his seat. He flew over both Spock and McCoy and was out of the small craft the moment it came to a halt. Bones burst through the crowded space in hot pursuit of his Captain, armed with sunscreen and southern rage. Spock followed at a reasonable pace, trying to avoid smacking anyone exiting the busy shuttle station with the two heavily packed bags he was carrying. Jim had rose early in the morning to prepare and pack a lunch for the three of them while Spock had argued with Dr. McCoy for over an hour on the most logical choice of towel for their excursion.

Once he was out of the terminal, glaring sunshine momentarily blinded him and he lost sight of his friends. Fortunately, the shoreline was relatively free of a large crowd. According to Spock’s research, this was optimal for maximum beach trip enjoyment. It wasn't long before he spotted McCoy trying to catch Jim. As he approached the pair, he witnessed the most spectacular tackle he had ever seen the good doctor make. The enormous umbrella went flying as Jim hit the sand with a dramatic thud.

After a little bit of wrestling and shouting that drew looks from other beach goers, Jim finally agreed to put on the sunscreen and stood, brushing the sand from his clothes and legs. Once he was sand free, he pulled off his shirt, basking in the warmth of New Vulcan’s sun before Bones forced the UV protection upon him. Though rarely self-conscious when it came to his body, the weeks Jim had spent in a coma had not been kind to him. He had gained back some of the weight he had lost, but the dark circles that had taken up permanent residence under his eyes and the pale, sickly pallor of his skin weren’t exactly confidence boosting. He could feel Spock's eyes on him as Bones lathered his hands and started to rub his shoulders. Jim met his gaze momentarily before quickly dropped his eyes to the sand below him. He could see the Vulcan turn away in his peripherals.

The scarlet sand felt soft and silky under Jim’s feet, though it was almost unbearably hot. Jagged mountain peaks jutted violently into the pale sky, continuing along the outer shoreline until they faded into the milky blue of the horizon. In the opposite direction, the outline of a city rose from the hazy red desert, the smooth lines of the tall buildings a strange juxtaposition to the harsh cliff faces they mirrored.

Scattered along the beach were packs of small Vulcan children being herded around by one or two adults. The children were gathering samples of the water in groups of twos and threes, their cherub-like faces squinting in concentration. Jim quickly gathered that it was either a school trip or the weird Vulcan version of a family trip to the beach. Being miles from anything interesting in Iowa, the most exciting school trip Jim had ever taken was to a cornfield to learn how modern farming equipment. Not exactly the most awe inspiring place he had ever been.

Spock had started to unpack their bags while Jim was being properly lotioned. It was a pleasant summer afternoon, much cooler than most of the days they had seen during their vacation. It didn't take long before McCoy joined him, covered in sunscreen as well, and started attempting to pitch the umbrella in the soft sand. Spock had barely laid out the first towel when he heard Jim’s surprised shout, “Gary!”

Spock glanced up from his work to see Jim pulling out of a hug with a man he did not recognize.

“What are you doing here?” Jim asked the man Spock presumed to be Gary, a little breathless with his excitement. Gary had a stocky build, bright eyes, and dark hair that swept across his forehead in a way that was generally considered to be attractive. He was taller than Jim, which was not necessarily a feat to marvel at, despite the Captain’s insistence that he was of average height for a Terran male.

“Shit,” McCoy muttered, dropping the umbrella he had been attempting to set up. He marched rather purposefully towards Jim and Spock followed, wondering who this stranger was and how he knew Jim.

“Helping build some of the stuff here for Starfleet,” he said, nodding his head in the direction of the city that Jim had seen before. “Today's my day off. What about you, my all powerful starship Captain?” His tone was flirtatious and he stood close enough to Jim that Spock had the urge to put an arm around his Captain’s waist.

Shore leave with Bones and my First Officer, Mr. Spock,” Jim said, a grin rising to his face as introduced the men he had come to think of as his closest family. He could say without a shadow of a doubt that there was no one whom he trusted more or who knew more about him than the pair of officers that currently flanked his left and right.

“McCoy, it's been so long! Good to see you,” Gary said, holding out his hand for Bones to shake.

Ignoring the hand, McCoy grumbled, “Wish I could say the same for you.” The ever-present frown lines on his forehead deepened and Jim glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, expression muddled and unreadable.

Gary, sensing the barely veiled hostility from the doctor turned to Spock, head dipping in respect and murmuring, “Nice to meet you, Commander. I’m Lieutenant Commander Gary Mitchell and a long time friend of Jim’s.”

Feeling wary of this stranger that Bones seemed to have little love for, Spock merely raised a hand in the traditional greeting. Jim chuckled, muttering about ‘Vulcan formality’ before asking about Mitchell’s health and well being. Spock tuned this out, choosing instead to study the way McCoy’s face grew progressively more aggravated, only coming back to the conversation when Jim turned to leave.

“I’ll be back,” Jim muttered, swatting dismissively at McCoy when he tried to follow, “It's just a quick trip to the bathroom, Bones! I don’t think I need help with that.” McCoy huffed, crossing his arms in frustration as Gary tried to hide an obvious snicker with coughing. The moment Jim was out of earshot, McCoy turned to the Lieutenant Commander with righteous fury in his eyes.

“Gary, you better watch yourself around Jim. Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you were like at the Academy,” he growled out, his arms dropping into balled fists at his side. The sudden outburst caught Spock’s attention and sparked his interest. It had been clear that McCoy didn’t enjoy the company of Mr. Mitchell, but Spock had no idea how deep that distaste ran and why it had been fostered in the first place.

“Easy, easy! Calm down, McCoy. It's been a long time since you’ve seen me. I’ve changed, become an upstanding member of society, and all that shit. Besides, Jimmy would be awful upset you picked a fight with me.” The playful grin Mitchell had before morphed into a sneer.

“How fucking dare you! How dare you even talk to him,” McCoy snarled, “People like you don’t change. What you did to Jim was unforgivable. He may be willing to move on and play nice, but I am not.”

“If he’s willing to move on, then that's all I need,” Gary smirked suggestively, his tone making Spock’s blood run cold. There was something in the way he spoke that suggested acts of a much darker kind than flirtation. Emotions that were ugly and possessive rose up within Spock at Mitchell's indication. Jim was his t’hy’la and this stranger had no right to even look at him in such a manner, much less challenge their bond. He rose up to his full height, face draining of all emotions except reproach as he stepped forward.

“Do not presume that in your absence that Jim has grown to desire one such as yourself. Your presence is not required and you are interrupting what was previously a pleasant day," Spock said. The more he learned of Mitchell, the more he felt that Dr. McCoy was right to feel hostile towards him.

All hints of Gary's pleasant facade dropped away.“You can’t be serious telling me to fuck off like that. Even if you are a commander, you can't order me around on my day off. I've heard about you and how loyal you are to my boy. Let me be the first to tell you, he doesn't give a fuck about you, no matter how much you've done for him or how many times you've saved his life. You might think that he's some prize to be won, the golden boy of Starfleet and all of that shit, but he's really just a little whore. I am free to do whatever I want with Jimmy," he sneered.

Blood running fiery through his veins, Spock leaned in near Gary’s ear, never touching the man and growled deeply, “If you attempt to take what is mine, I assure you that you will regret it. I will have you transferred off of this planet and to the outpost bordering the Neutral Zone. Statistically, you are likely to die within three months or at least suffer a debilitating injury within two months. If you are not able to be transferred, I will have you dishonorably discharged from Starfleet for slander and inappropriate behavior. You will be unable to find work on most Federation planets and live as an outcast from society. I would suggest you carefully reconsider your course of action."

When he drew back, Gary’s eyes were wide, the whites showing and pupils dilated with fear. His mouth was parted in shock and it seemed as though he were frozen for a few moments, before he twitched away from Spock's harsh gaze.

“You’re fucking crazy,” Gary squeaked, stumbling backwards. He rushed to turn and scramble away from them, glancing over his shoulder at the pair often. Spock felt a sense of accomplishment as he watched the man run from him.

“Not that I’m complaining, but why the hell did you do that?” McCoy said, eyebrows rising with astonishment. He hadn't heard what Spock had said, but he had seen hardened Starfleet officers cry after the Vulcan reprimanded them. It was easy to imagine that Gary could easily be frightened by his stern demeanor.

“It was logical. The safety of the Captain is the direct responsibility of the First Officer. Mr. Mitchell posed an obvious threat to his wellbeing, so it then became my duty to remove the threat,” Spock said, followed by the thought that it was also eminently logical that the same rules applied to tile as well. Though he felt smug, there was an underlying shame at his jealous behavior. Jim was not an object to lay claim to and he was no more entitled to his favor than any other being. This was still overridden by the overwhelming satisfaction he felt at the view of Gary's retreating form.

McCoy grinned good-naturedly, “We’re on shore leave, Spock. Isn’t it perhaps possible that you feel something for Jim that extends beyond the line of duty?

Spock’s eyebrow jumped toward his hairline, “It is perhaps… possible.” The corners of his mouth twitched upward as McCoy beamed at him, bouncing slightly on his toes. Jim jogged back into view, looking utterly confused.

“Where’d Gary go? And why are you two so happy?” he huffed out, glancing between the pair. There was something smug on both of their faces that made him suspicious.

"Mr. Mitchell had urgent business to attend to," Spock said, glancing at Dr. McCoy, who was grinning like the cat that ate the canary, "He will not be rejoining us." Jim gave him a strange look before shaking it off.

“Well, he’s going to miss all the fun,” Jim smirked, waggling his eyebrows and causing McCoy to groan. “Last one into the water is a Gorn,” he yelled, sprinting off towards the waves.

“May I inquire as to what Mr. Mitchell did to incur your dislike?” Spock murmured, leaning in close to McCoy.

“Not now, but later I’ll explain it. I was there for the whole fiasco and Jim compensated for all the crazy shit we went through by giving the rights to tell this story."

"I find it fascinating how you and Jim exchange confidentiality rights," Spock said, a mildly curious tone in his voice. Bones just chuckled, a gentle smile on his face. The soft push of the ocean against the sand was interrupted by Jim's shouting and wild motioning for them to join him in the water. McCoy jogged towards him, only to be tackled the moment he was within Jim's range. Despite the fact that he was in public, surrounded by Vulcans who would disapprove if they saw, Spock allowed a smile to break out on his face for just an instant.

* * *

  
Jim was out cold and drooling on Spock's shoulder, a surprisingly common scene nowadays. Despite putting up a tough front, Jim was still worn out easily and New Vulcan's harsh climate was doing his healing body few favors in the short term. However, in the long run, McCoy had theorized that if he recovered at a slow pace in strenuous conditions, his body would become stronger and transition easier to life on the Enterprise than if he had stayed on Earth to recuperate. The catch was that he had to take it easy so as not to regress.

A sudden jolt of turbulence nearly caused Jim to pitch out of his seat and onto the floor. Spock caught him with swift ease and set him upright in his seat, fastening the seat belt that should have been in place since takeoff. Jim was never one to follow rules, especially if they pertained to his own safety. After double-checking that his Captain wouldn't be catapulted into the next row of seats, Spock turned back to Dr. McCoy.

"As I was saying, Jim wanted to have a fresh start at the Academy, get away from all the shit he had done before. He's told you about most of that by now, I assume," McCoy drawled, "Anyways, though you wouldn't really think it, Jim was the textbook definition of an egghead. Damn, even you know that his IQ is a higher number than his weight. He spent half of his freshman year in the library and the other half...well, unfortunately, Gary Mitchell got that. They were both on the Command Track and had a few classes together, even though Gary was a third-year at that point. They're the same age, but Gary started earlier than Jim did. Anyways, Jim was on an advanced track so all of his classes were out of order. He and Gary hit it off instantly. They started dating a few weeks after they met and Jim was head-over-heels in love with him. It was pretty obvious to everyone, including Gary, that this was his first major crush."

McCoy chuckled softly, rubbing his left hand a little, a gesture he made whenever remembering something unpleasant. "Jim started staying the night at Gary's, and those nights stretched into weeks, until I was only seeing him once a month. He'd show up to the dorm with bruises every now and then, always said he got 'em sparring with friends, and dammit, I believed him.

There was one time in particular, he dropped in to wish me an early happy birthday since he was going to be off planet for some command class shit on that day. Jim... He seemed a little off, but I didn't think anything of it. We hadn't talked in a few weeks. He came by later that night. God, Spock, I nearly cried when I saw him. His face was one giant bloody bruise and the rest of his body wasn't much better.

Of course, he wouldn't tell me what happened, but it wasn't that hard to figure out. I took him to the clinic and managed regenerate most of the places that were badly injured. I was going to give Jim a basic look over to make sure that there wasn't any lasting damage, but when he refused to take off his shirt, I got nervous. We argued and it eventually got pretty heated until I ended up tearing off his shirt. I couldn't tell the difference between the hickeys and the bruises and Gary's hands were imprinted all over his torso. Dammit, I should have been able to see what was happening before it got so out of hand." McCoy glanced at Spock, then his gaze dropped, eyes lingering on Jim's sleeping face.

"I made Jim break it off with Gary after that. He was reluctant, but I'm pretty sure he knew it was the best. Mitchell was obviously not pleased with that and did some pretty nasty things to get some sick version of revenge. Gary was one of three people Jim hooked up with at the Academy and he was definitely the first. But Gary had a lot of friends who were willing to believe whatever gossip they could get a hold of." McCoy sighed, looking tired. "Gary told anyone who was willing to listen that Jim had cheated on him with half the Academy and had every STD known to the Federation. It doesn't sound like it would be much of a problem, but Gary wasn't really known for being the disgusting scum he is. Everybody liked him fairly well, and he seemed like a decent guy, so no one questioned what he said.

It started out as a small rumor, but it snowballed into such a mess that Pike eventually pulled him into his office to berate him for being so reckless with his body. Jim had been more reserved than usual up until that point, but he came out of that office with a swagger I hadn't seen in months. That really is his greatest weapon. No matter how bad the situation is, he manages to somehow make it positive. I guess he figured if people were going to view him as some kind of incubus, he might as well use it to his advantage and make sure that no one actually knew what kind of person he is."

McCoy paused and then looked Spock dead in the eyes, voice incredibly serious, "The fact that he lets you in on that side of him, the side that no one else gets to see, is incredibly special. I know that you know that. Don't screw this up...for either of you. He needs you just as much as you need him."

The shuttle hit some turbulence, jolting Jim awake. He jerked up from his position on Spock's shoulder, smacking McCoy directly in the nose with his head.

"Dammit, Jim!" McCoy groaned, holding his nose, giving his friend a gentle shove in Spock's direction.

"Sorry, Bones," Jim grinned sheepishly. Spock met McCoy's gaze, keeping it only for a moment, before the Doctor turned to berate Kirk. If the soft tone of voice he reserved for Jim was more prominent than normal, neither Spock nor Kirk mentioned it.

* * *

  
Despite McCoy’s most fervent efforts and a bottle of high protection sunscreen, Jim still managed to get burnt. Bones had shouted all kinds of obscenities about idiots who don’t need anymore damn radiation as he rummaged through his luggage for a small dermal regenerator he took everywhere. Unfortunately, it only had enough charge to heal Jim’s face and the front of his torso which led to the rather compromising position they were currently in. Kirk was glad that they were no longer on Terra because if the tabloids got a hold this, there would be a field day with the admiralty.

After the regenerator ran out of juice, McCoy had become so utterly flustered that he stormed up to his room, threw a bottle of lotion at Spock and shouted, “I’m on shore leave right now so you can deal with him!” Muffled cursing could be heard from behind the door where Jim and Spock stood. Shrugging, the Captain sighed and gestured for Spock to lead the way to their room.

Nearly naked, Jim lay on their bed while Spock kneaded the thick, oily jelly into his skin. He felt boneless, like clay in Spock's hands, ready to be molded at a touch. Low red light from the setting sun streamed into the room, setting everything ablaze with scarlet hues. His face and chest felt puffy from the regenerator and the room was warm and thick with the muggy evening air.

"This is definitely gonna help my sunburn," he slurred into his pillow. His mind was heady with a slow burning arousal and it was hard to think of anything other than the wonderful way Spock’s hands felt on his body. Wanting to distract from his obvious attraction to the Vulcan, Jim felt that it would be best to say the first thing that came into his mind. That was nearly always a bad idea.

“Starfleet commed me today while we were out. They want me back on Earth in two weeks for the finalization of the Enterprise’s refit. Which pretty much means they’re getting nervous that Scotty’s going to have a meltdown soon and I need to be there to handle the fallout,” Jim chuckled, craning his neck to look back at Spock. The picture he saw would be appealing to anyone, maybe even Bones if he was given enough bourbon. He sighed, laying his head on his folded arms.

“We’ll be going back out into the black before you know it. The problem is I’m not sure I should be in the Captain’s chair anymore. I feel tired, Spock, like my brain has worn out before my body has. I’m not sure that after Khan… I’m not ready for this,” Jim huffed out, Spock’s hands instantly stilled along the base of his spine and his eyes met Jim’s, confusion winding his brow together. He rose from his kneeling position, a dark shadow against the last remnants of the sun’s light. Jim rolled over to look at the Vulcan properly, the sheets sticking to the half dried aloe on his skin. After taking in the situation, he patted the space next to him as an invitation for Spock to lay with him. Spock's movements were stiff and awkward, but eventually he managed to find a resting position on his side facing Jim.

“Sometimes I feel like I shouldn’t be alive, like I’m living on borrowed time from somewhere. I should have died the moment I was born, in that stupid car, again on Tarsus, during that one mission on Heli Four, and the list goes on and on. Even when I do die, you manage to bring me back,” Jim ground out, reaching out to close the gap between him and Spock. His fingers ghosted over the hills and valleys of Spock’s knuckles before dipping down to press gently into his palms. He gently nudged the Vulcans fingers aside as he laced his own into the gaps in between.  
Spock didn’t enjoy how many times his Captain had brushed closely with death, nor did he relish the fact that he had often been the one to take his body to Doctor McCoy.  
  
He had carried him to Medbay after his death in the warp core, not realizing that his silent tears had been falling onto Jim’s chest all the while. He had held his Captain closely enough to feel the heat slowly leaving his body, fiery rage coursing through his body as all warmth bled out of the universe. The others had gone to the bridge where they were needed most and Spock had been left to carry him alone. McCoy had met him at a dead sprint in the hallway, face crumpling with heartbreak the moment he saw Jim cradled in Spock’s arms. When McCoy moved to take Jim from Spock, there had been a short moment, for time was against them, when all the world stood still. Then came the rush of fury and Spock was running through the streets of San Francisco, chasing the man who had taken all the light out of the world.

“It terrifies you to think about the warp core. About me dying,” Jim whispered suddenly, eyes shining with ghosts of amazement and fear. Spock gave no answer, knowing that he couldn’t hide the truth even if he tried to deny it. Jim was becoming more and more adept at reading his emotions. He suspected that it was partially a feedback from the bond, as it was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain his shields and avoid flooding Jim with all of the pure feeling that he had for the man.

“Jim, I believed for many years that I had no place in the universe. I found that place with you on the Enterprise. It is...not something I desire to lose. It seems to be very easy for you to be a martyr because you do not think of those you leave behind," Spock's eyes were soft but they held level with Jim's. His breathing stilled as deft fingers carded through his hair and skimmed down the line of his jaw. As a thumb brushed over his parted lips, Spock began to notice that Jim was shaking, if just slightly.

“Do you ever regret anything?” Jim’s voice was rough and heavy with the feelings that he was fighting. He was tired beyond all reckoning and sleep was creeping over him. Spock knew that the correct Vulcan answer would be ‘no’ because the past could not be changed and, if there was nothing to learn from it, there was no reason to dwell on it. However, it would be a lie and in the interest of full disclosure, he answered truthfully.

“Yes,” he whispered, rubbing his thumb over the soft creases of Jim’s hand, “I regret many things.”

“Tell me about them,” Jim sighed, his eyelids drooping and making half moons of his bright eyes. Spock’s mouth tightened and his gaze dropped to the mattress below them.

"I could never tell my mother that I loved her. It became apparent in my early childhood that such displays of affections were forbidden in Vulcan society. I wonder now if I should not have ignored their stipulations. I do not believe so strongly as I once did that my father would disapprove of my open admissions of familial love," Spock rolled onto his side, staring at the ceiling above. "I also regret that I have neglected to take into account the emotions of others. I have often dismissed sensitivity as a necessary part of interaction and I believe it has done little other than hurt those who I am close to."

"Jim, I find our current relationship to be... My feelings for you are of a romantic nature. I wish to ascertain if you would be open to pursuing a relationship with me,” Spock looked over Jim, wanting to gauge his reaction to the sudden statement, only to find that his Captain had fallen asleep. He sighed into the now dark room, feeling an emptiness spreading from his side into the rest of his chest. As the rigid lines he had maintained between his Vulcan and Human halves were beginning to blur, the strain of having an unfulfilled bond became all the more pronounced. The tedious routine of missed chances and ships passing in the night weighed heavily on him. "Tomorrow," he promised to the darkness, which said nothing in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its taken so long to post another chapter! I'll try to write the next one a bit faster. All my love to the readers who have managed to wait. I'm so grateful for you guys!


	7. Kairos

Spock always considered himself to be a light sleeper. Though he certainly didn't suffer the same difficulties that Dr. McCoy did when sleeping with others, he was typically aware of what was happening around him at some level, even in his deepest levels of REM. He typically monitored the immediate area unconsciously and woke up if there was a disturbance, even if it was as minor as someone getting out of bed. This is why he found it so strange that he woke up alone the next morning, realizing that he hadn't been aware of Jim leaving at all. Over the past few days, he had at least remembered, on some level, the other man pushing the covers away and the creak of the bed as he got up. Spock sat up in the bed and scanned the room for any signs of the Captain. The quick glance told him that the man was neither in the bathroom or out on the balcony.

Spock sighed, knowing that this lapse in normality was likely another sign of his mental agitation caused by the unfulfilled bond. The longer he prolonged the eventual action that would have to take place regarding the bond, the worse his mental state would become.  He would have to confront the Captain today or risk serious consequences for the both of them. If Spock waited too long, it would become nigh impossible to either fulfill or to remove the bond. He would likely deteriorate into a state of feral paranoia, not unlike the effects of Pon Farr on the Vulcan mentality, and would be difficult to control. At that stage, it would be nigh impossible to meld with him to break his bond with Jim.

He pulled the covers back and stood in one fluid motion. Spock walked out the balcony to begin his morning stretches, relishing in the pull of his muscles after the stiffness of laying in one position for hours.  He was glad to feel the fog of sleep lifting from his mind, knowing he would need some semblance of meditation this morning if he was going to attempt to start what might possibly be the most difficult conversation of his life.

* * *

By the time Spock had completely finished his morning routine, the sun had climbed over the distant hills and the smell of more fried vegetables was wafting up the stairs. Spock emerged from the dark stairway to find McCoy bent over the stove, poking vigorously at another batch of potatoes and what looked to be an assortment of Vulcan vegetables. McCoy looked up for a moment to meet Spock's gaze, nodded, and then went back work, uninterested in the Vulcan at the moment. Fortunately, nothing seemed to be burning, so Spock  walked past the man and out to the veranda. The doors had been left wide open and a pleasant, early morning breeze was still drifting in, despite the sun having long since risen. The Captain, still pink from yesterday’s sunburn, was sitting outside in a chair, staring intently into the distant, a peaceful look on his face. Spock stood a few feet away from him, not wanting to disturb the other. Jim didn't even turn to look at him before he started speaking. He just knew that the other man was there, sensing him come outside.

"There's a sandstorm rolling in," Jim said, pointing to a large smudge on the horizon. It was a fair distance away, but was growing steadily closer. Spock remembered the familiar shape of the storms, having watched enormous red clouds be born and die on Vulcan for most of his life. "Bones said that it won't arrive for a few hours, so I thought I'd watch it move. I used to do that with the storms in Iowa. Every once and awhile, I'd get lucky and get to watch tornadoes form." Spock thought it was strange that the Captain thought being close to a highly destructive force like a tornado was 'lucky,' but kept silent on the matter, thinking of the more pressing issue at hand. His normal sense of calm was being rapidly replaced by an all consuming fear of Jim’s reaction to the bond and he was having difficulty keeping his already volatile emotional state within control.

"Captain... Jim, there is something I must speak with you about," Spock said, feeling unsure of how to proceed. The change from formal to personal address caught Jim's attention and he could tell that there was something amiss, something that was bothering Spock that he didn't know about. The Vulcan stood awkwardly, his hand pressed tightly behind his back and eyes set straight ahead, as though he were waiting on a reprimand from the Admiralty.

"Sit," Jim commanded, feeling the need to take control. A side effect of his captaincy had been that anytime crew members struggled in social situations, he immediately felt the need to take command and avert any uncomfortable attention towards himself. While much of the crew appreciated it, his peers found it slightly annoying as they repeatedly told them that they could handle it on their own.

Spock sat in the wicker chair next to Jim's, still looking as though he was waiting on the other shoe to drop. He did not fidget nervously like most humans would have, instead becoming almost mechanical in his action. Years of Vulcan training helped him to repress and control his emotions, but often at the price of his natural grace. Spock sat stiffly, looking at Jim and searching for the right words to say. Jim gazed back at him, steady and sure, waiting patiently for the other man to speak.

"How much do you know about Vulcan bonds, Jim?" Spock asked, finally finding a place to begin that would not be immediately confusing or damaging to their friendship. Jim's eyebrows wrinkled in confusion at the sudden question. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't that.

"Well, I know that there are different kinds, like between family members, and friends, and partners. You typically only have them with the people closest to you. And they help to stabilize you mentally. Other than that, I don't really know much," Jim shrugged. "That section of the xenobiology course was always pretty vague and I got the impression that it would be fairly rude for me to ask about that kind of thing."

"That is all true," Spock said, nodding his head slightly. At least Jim wasn’t totally repulsed by the idea of bonds and that was a good enough starting place for Spock. "One of the topics your xenobiology course many have failed to cover is that of accidental bonds. These types of bonds developed as a result of the close relationships between ancient Vulcan warriors. It is rare for these bonds to occur now, but it does occasionally happen.” Kirk looked mildly confused, but nodded.

“It is formed inadvertently and typically because of a combination of the repeated close proximity of two individuals in highly stressful situations and a deeply felt connection between these two. They are built on extreme compatibility and have been referred to in ways that rival Terran descriptions of soulmates,” Spock continued, eyes flicking from Jim’s face to his shoes and back again.

“Okay?” Jim said, feeling lost. Spock had become increasingly still as he grew more nervous and Jim wasn’t entirely sure that he was still breathing. He could practically feel his agitation and it was making his skin crawl.

“Jim, did your xenobiology class discuss what can happen to Vulcans who live with unfulfilled bond?" Jim shook his head, eyebrows drawing even closer together. "Those Vulcans who do not fulfill their bond for whatever reason, be it rejection by their partner, physical distance from their partner, or any number of other scenarios, suffer a slow mental deterioration, eventually reaching a state where they are considered feral. Their partner may feel some of the effects depending on the strength of the bond, but some do not even realize that they are bonded. The only options for those who have begun the mental degradation process are to fulfill the bond, break the bond, or suffer the effects of inaction." Spock's mouth had grown increasingly pinched and his mind seemed to turn inward, as though he had thought over the subject hundreds of times. Jim felt like Spock wasn't even aware that he was sitting next to him anymore with how distant he appeared.

"That's really interesting, Spock, but why are you telling me this?" he asked, shifting in his seat. The Vulcan's eyes met Jim's and there was panic within them. Most people wouldn't have been able to see it, but Jim knew Spock, knew him like he was an extension of his own soul. He often used it to tease him, but there was something more serious going on here, a conversation Jim had the feeling that he was likely to remember for the rest of his life even though he didn’t really know where it was going.

"I..." Spock began haltingly, "I am..." Jim's eyes widened as he began to understand and he sat back in his chair with a slight thud. Emotions played out rapidly on his face as he began to process the implications of what he believed Spock was attempting to tell him. He looked out to the dark spot on the horizon, trying to think of how to discuss this without letting his personal feelings overwhelm him. He wanted Spock with every part of his being, needed him like water in a desert, but it seemed as though he was too late for any confessions of feelings. The Vulcan obviously needed a friend to support him right now and if he was going to trust Jim with such a personal matter, he wasn't going to let him down.

"How long has it been like this, Spock?" Jim sighed, hands going white at the knuckles as he clenched them tightly around the arms of the chair. His gaze on the approaching sandstorm did not waver. He couldn't bring himself to turn to Spock, who remained silent. The thought of him slowly fading into madness over some kind of unrequited love was something Jim felt like he could almost relate to.

"Since you began your recovery process and perhaps even before that," Spock said, sounding flatter than usual, as if he was trying to pull as much of emotion out of his voice as possible.

"I see," Jim said, voice coming out choked. He tried to clear his throat, but it did little good. "Is there anything we can do to help you with the bond thing, like maybe something Bones could make to slow down the process? I don't want you to suffer, you are one of my best friends after all." Jim chuckled, but it seemed empty and he felt like some part of him was dying as they progressed into the conversation. The emptiness within his mind, the loneliness that had plagued him for the past few weeks, seemed to explode outward and fill him.

"No," was Spock's reply, barely above a whisper at this point. Something about this refusal of help set Jim off. Not only did Spock not want him, he didn't even want his help. Could he not see how Jim was breaking? Would he even care if he did?

"Well, will you at least tell me who you've gone and bonded with?" Jim snapped. He felt something inside of him tear and he wanted Spock to feel how deeply it hurt, even if that came at the expense of his pride. "Because I'd really fucking love to know. Does Uhura know who it is? Is that the reason you broke up, because you fell in love with some other girl? Because she damn well deserves better than being second fiddle to someone else." He felt tears begin to well up behind his eyes and his voice had become rough with the threat of letting those tears fall, but it was too late at this point. He had held in all of his questions and feelings for Spock for months and couldn't be bothered to stop now that he had begun to let them out.

"Have you even told this other girl even know about the bond?" he asked, hands flying up in exasperation. "Does she even want to bond with you or is that the problem? You're afraid to tell her because you think she's going to reject you and you'd rather just go insane instead. Did you even stop to consider that you've got people who care about you and that we might want you to live? Even if she doesn't want to bond with you, just break it and we'll find you someone better. I _can't_ fucking lose you, Spock." He finally turned to look at Spock, who was the picture of utter misery, like a deep sorrow had suddenly come over him. His shoulders sagged and his mouth mirrored the shape. His eyebrows were drawn together tightly and he looked both confused and hurt. It was too close to the expression Jim had seen only weeks before, deep in the heart of the Enterprise.

"Spock..." Jim started, feeling unsure of himself at once. Perhaps he had gone too far with his little tantrum and Spock was truly offended. He reached out to touch the Vulcan’s arm, hoping to apologize for his outburst, but Spock shook his head imperceptibly. Jim drew back, something in his chest beginning to ache as the emptiness within him spread.

"It's you, Jim. We are bonded," Spock said and closed his eyes, as though he were bracing himself against his reply. A long paused greeted him as Jim just stared at him with raised eyebrows and an open mouth. Had Spock not felt so sick to his stomach, he might have found the image humorous.

"What?" Jim wasn't sure he had heard what he had just heard. He felt a little dumbstruck and rubbed a hand over his face as though that would help clear his head.

"Jim, we have a bond," Spock repeated, a strange mix of tiredness and pain in his voice. "I deeply regret such a gross violation of your personal trust, as I know you have no interest in pursuing such a relationship with me. I will follow your advice and break our bond, after which I will attempt to 'find someone better' though that will be impossible as you are my t'hy'la." He shifted as though he were going to stand, but Jim's hand shot out, grasping his. Deep sorrow and guilt washed over Jim like he had turned on a faucet and he immediately snatched his hand back. Spock stood fully, looking at him in confusion.

"Spock, wait a second, sit back down, please," Jim said in a rush of words, fearing that the Vulcan would run away. "You don't need to feel so guilty. You didn't violate anything. Even I know that it takes some mutual attraction to create a bond. We did learn something in that class." His laugh was nervous, but Spock did sit back down. There was a tension between them that mounted with each word Jim spoke.

"So we're bonded then, just like that," Jim let out an awkward huff, overwhelmed by the idea of it. He had wanted Spock for months, felt envious of Uhura the whole time, but now that the moment of truth was upon him, he felt so lost. He felt like he was on the edge of something, though he didn’t know what, and all he had to do was take another step to find out. He just didn’t know which way to go, much less what he’d find beyond that.

"We are not technically fully bonded and it was not 'just like that' as you say," Spock said, still appearing bewildered by what was happening. After Jim's outburst, it had seemed relatively clear that the other man had little interest in a bond with him, yet he had reached out to him and asked him to stay.

"Yeah, I understand, but it just feels really sudden. I don’t really know what to say, Spock.” He smiled, almost bashfully, looking down at his hands. “So, do we get married or-” The Vulcan made a somewhat strangled choking noise and Jim looked up to see his eyebrows had shot far up into his bangs.

“Jim, do you not wish to break the bond?” he asked, shock clear in his voice. The Vulcan hadn’t dared hope for something like this to happen. He was utterly unprepared for a scenario in which Jim might want him back.

“No, of course not,” Jim said, “Wait, do _you_?” He felt his heart jolt in his chest at the thought of that after he had stated his position so boldly. Spock shook his head and Jim let out a sigh, his shoulders sagging in relief.

“Then do you wish to fulfill the bond?” Spock’s voice trembled, a strain of emotion in it that he couldn’t hold back. He looked desperate at this point, more earnest than Jim had ever seen him before.

Jim stood, taking a few steps so that he was directly in front of his First Officer, and placed his hands on the other man’s shoulders. His mouth was stretched as wide as it would go in the biggest smile he could manage. “Yes, I want to fulfill the bond.”

Spock opened his mouth and then shut it, eyebrows coming together as he stared at Jim. “Why?” The single word sounded somewhere between a prayer and a plea. Jim chuckled, sinking into the Vulcan’s lap, feeling the other man stiffen then relax. Their faces were mere inches from each other now. They had been this close before on several occasions, but never before had Jim been able to fully enjoy the press of his body against Spock’s without being worried about the attacking natives or the walls closing in around them.

“Because I love you, Spock. I plan on spending the rest of my life with you, bond or no bond. You’re everything to me, even if you wanted to just stay friends. Hell, I’d chase you across the galaxy just to play chess,” Jim said, trying to imprint the the way Spock’s dark eyes widened into his mind forever. Tentatively, Spock rose a hand to Jim’s neck, pressing gently until their foreheads touched together. Jim breathed out a content sigh and he could feel the loneliness within him beginning to ebb away, the darkness being filled with the light that was Spock.

"What was that word you used before? Thyla?" Jim struggled over the unfamiliar sounds. It had sounded rather important at the time. Spock brought his other hand up to cup Jim’s waist, pulling him closer as he grew more confident and comfortable with the contact.

"T'hy'la," Spock said, "It means one who is both a friend and a brother, but also a lover. It is the closest word to soulmate in Vuhlkansu. It is the only word I have that comes close to adequately describing what you are to me, Jim."

Jim felt his eyes water a little and closed them quickly to avoiding crying. No one had ever said anything remotely like that to him and it was all so much so fast. It was like coming home after never even knowing what home meant. He felt Spock shift against him, a scratchy brush of stubble against his cheek and then warm dry lips pressing against his own chapped ones. Jim broke into a grin and kissed back, first gently and then with more insistence, letting his instincts take over as Spock overwhelmed him.

“Finally!” came McCoy’s bark from where he was leaning against the door frame, holding a glass of sweet tea in one hand and the other on his hip. Jim almost leaped out of his seat, but stumbled a little due to the fact that Spock’s hand was still holding his waist. McCoy chuckled and said “Don't let me disturb you. I was just going back inside and I suggest you two do the same here shortly. Storm’s getting closer and I'd hate to tell Starfleet that their favorite officers died because they were to busy getting it on to seek shelter.”

This caused Jim to choke a little, which only made McCoy’s smile wider. The doctor turned and walked back into the house, leaving the pair alone. Spock had stood and was now facing Jim, who was looking out at the horizon, where the storm was indeed growing. When he turned back around, he saw Spock with one hand outstretched for him to take. Somewhere inside, Jim knew that this was more than just Spock asking him to come inside. It was an offer to stay by his side, forever if that's what Jim wanted, to travel across space and time together, not just as First Officer and Captain, but as soulmates, as t’hy’la.

Jim placed his hand in Spock's, feeling the warmth of another palm against his own, and grinned as he watched the Vulcan’s mouth form a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for sticking it out with me for all these years! Its been a wild ride and it seemed about time to finish this up. I really appreciate the support you've given me and all the great feedback. Hope to see y'all again soon!


End file.
